A  YEAR  WORTH  LIVING: 


A    STORY 


OF   A   PLACE   AND    OF  A   PEOPLE   ONE   CANNOT 
AFFORD   NOT   TO   KNOW. 


WILLIAM    M.    BAKER, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  INSIDE,"  "  THE  NEW  TIMOTHY,"  "  MOSE  EVANS,' 
"  CARTER  QUARTERMAN,"  ETC. 


BOSTON : 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS. 

NEW  YORK: 
CHARLES    T.    DILLINGHAM. 

1878. 


COPYRIGHT,  1878, 

BY 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD. 


Franklin  Press: 

Electrotyped  and  Printed 

By  Rand,  Avery,  &*  Company, 

Boston. 


I  DEDICATE 

THIS       STORY 

TO 

MY      SON      D.     B.     B., 

AS   AN   EVIDENCE    OF  THE 

ENTIRE  CONFIDENCE,  AS  WELL  AS  HEARTY  LOVE, 

OF 
HIS   FATHER. 


2072165 


A  PORTION  of  this  book  was  published  in  "The 
Christian  at  Work,"  of  New  York.  That,  however, 
was  but  the  germ  out  of  which  this  volume  has 
grown  to  such  a  degree  as  to  deserve,  as  it  has 
received,  a  new  name. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE. 

In  which  the   Columbus  of  this  History  sets  out  for  a  New 

World 7 

CHAPTER  II. 

In  which  we  find  that  to  leave  an  Old  World  is  not  always  to 

step  ashore  right  away  upon  a  New 18 

CHAPTER  III. 

Explaining  how  this  Columbus  sets  his  Foot  at  last  upon  the 

shores  of  a  New  Land 30 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Mr.  Venable  begins  to  know  the  Inhabitants  of  St.  Jerome,  and 

they  to  know  him     .........      41 

CHAPTER  V. 

In  which  Mr.  Venable  begins  to  see  that  St.  Jerome  is  as  tropical 

in  its  People  as  in  its  Climate 50 

CHAPTER  VI. 

In  which,  for  the  First  Time  in  his  Life,  Mr.  Venable  sees  One 

of  his  Ideals  alive  and  breathing 60 

CHAPTER  VII. 

In  which  we  come  to  know  Col.  Roland,  Mr.  Farce  Fanthorp,  and 

begin  to  become  acquainted  with  Miss  Zeo    ....      69 

3 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE. 

In  which  we  bid  Good-by,  for  a  Time,  to  Things  Inferior,  and 

ascend  into  the  Realm  of  Art 83 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Mr.  Venable  makes  the  Acquaintance  of  His  Excellency  "  Old 

Ugly" 93 

CHAPTER  X. 

Mr.  Ezra  Micajah  Parsons  begins  to  explain  his  Ideas  to  Mr. 

Venable  .        .        .       : .        .102 

CHAPTER  XI. 

We  continue  our  Acquaintance  with  Mr.  Ezra  Micajah  Parsons, 

and  his  Owny 114 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Mr.  Phip  Quatty  feels  it  to  be  His  Duty  to  make  a  Few  Remarks     124 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Mr.  Venable  soars  among  the  Stars,  while  Zeo  Buttolph  descends 

in  quite  another  Direction 135 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Mr.  Venable  becomes  better  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Chaffingsby 

and  her  Household 144 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Describing  a  Wonderful  Ride  in  the  Terraqueous  Machine  .        .     157 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Mr.  Venable  begins  to  break  his  Shell  toward  entering  upon  a 

Larger  Life 169 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Having  Reference  to  a  Variety  of  Persons  and  of  Things     .        .     175 


CONTENTS.  5 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PAGE. 

In  which  we  descend  into  the  Chemistry  of  Eloquence,  and  learn 

how  an  Oration  is  prepared 187 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
A  Night  on  board  the  Bayou-Boat      ...  ...    206 

CHAPTER  XX. 

In  which  it  is  shown  that  All  Things  at  a  Sugar-Plantation  are 

not  necessarily  sweet 216 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Mr.  Venable  violates  the  Proprieties 225 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Illustrating  the  Fact  that  Nature  abhors  a  Vacuum      .        .        .    234 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  ebbing  Sea  reveals  somewhat  of  that  which  it  hides      .        .     249 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
The  Tide  begins  to  return  again 258 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

In  which  People  of  Diverse  Kinds  are  not  more  mixed  up  than 

they  often  are  in  this  Tangled  Life 265 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

In  which  Tragedy  and  Comedy  are  not  blended  more  than  they 

are  apt  to  be  everywhere 275 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

With  the  Year,  the  New  World  also  of  our  Columbus  hastens 

to  its  Ending 285 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
In  which  the  Midnight  darkens  toward  Dawn       ....     295 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

PAGE. 

Sulphur  St.  Jerome,  and  what  happened  there      ....    305 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Mr.  Venable  is  re-enforced 313 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

In  which  is  ended  what  it  is  hoped  the  Reader  may  consent  to  say 

has  been  A  Year  Worth  Living      .        .        .        .        .        .321 


A  YEAR  WORTH  LIVING. 


A   STORY   OF   A   PLACE    AND    OF   A   PEOPLE    ONE    CANNOT 
AFFORD    NOT   TO   KNOW. 


CHAPTER    I. 

IN  WHICH   THE   COLUMBUS   OF  THIS   HISTORY    SETS   OUT   FOR  A 
NEW  WORLD. 

IT  certainly  seemed  to  Hartman  Venable,  the  Wednesday 
afternoon  he  went  aboard  the  steamship  Nautilus,  as 
if  he  were  leaving  an  old  and  very  dismal  world.  Earlier  in 
the  day  he  had  sent  his  trunk  to  the  boat,  and  nothing  was 
left  him  but  to  follow.  It  proved,  however,  a  good  deal  to 
do.  The  rain  was  pouring  in  torrents ;  and  it  took  all  his 
strength  to  keep  his  umbrella  from  wreck,  as  he  strove  along 
in  the  gusts  of  the  storm.  He  was  young,  ardent,  and  full 
of  an  enthusiasm  which  bore  him  up  like  a  kite  against  the 
wind,  the  harder  it  blew,  so  that  the  tempest  was  a  welcome 
variety  to  his  other  and  more  sober  enjoyments. 

"  Dame  Nature,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  struggled  down 
the  street,  "  is  having  a  washing-day  of  it,  with  a  vengeance. 
What  a  vixen  she  is  !  The  moment  the  black  clouds  stop 
pouring  down,  to  rest  a  bit,  she  rushes  at  them  as  if  they 
were  lazy  negroes,  scolding  and  shrieking  until  they  come 
back  to  their  work  with  a  sort  of  sullen  fury."  For  the 

7 


8  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

events  to  be  herein  recorded  took  place  in  the  South,  and 
before  emancipation. 

As  he  spoke,  he  wound  his  way  at  last  through  the  mer- 
chandise heaped  upon  the  wharves  of  the  city  from  which 
he  was  departing,  and  which  lined  the  shores  of  the  great 
river  for  miles  up  and  down.  It  was  not  easy  to  find  his 
steamship  among  the  scores  of  vessels  of  all  sorts  lying  there. 
He  knew  it  after  a  while  by  the  black  smoke  from  its  chim- 
neys, and  climbed  up  the  slippery  gangway,  very  wet,  and 
glad  to  be  under  shelter  again.  Pausing  in  the  doorway  of 
the  cabin  to  fold  his  dripping  umbrella,  he  cast  a  last  look 
at  the  acres  of  cotton-bales,  flour-barrels,  sugar-hogsheads,  and 
the  like,  each  heap  sheltered  under  tarpaulin. 

"  It  is  like  so  many  corpses  covered  with  sheets,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  No  wonder.  You  are  all  of  you  a  dead  world 
to  me."  As  he  spoke,  the  exasperated  wind  made  one  last 
rush  at  him,  seized  upon  his  umbrella,  turned  it  inside  out, 
snatched  it  from  his  wet  hands,  and  cast  it  contemptuously 
into  the  river  beyond. 

"What  do  I  care,  old  lady?"  he  said  with  a  laugh.  "I 
am  going  where  people  do  not  use  umbrellas.  Good-by." 
And  he  sought  his  stateroom. 

By  the  time  he  had  changed  his  clothes,  supper  was  ready ; 
an  erect  steward  tapping  at  the  door  of  his  room,  and  telling 
him  so  in  a  certain  military  manner,  which  was  acceptable,  as 
signifying  discipline  on  board,  and  consequent  security.  At 
the  same  moment  the  Nautilus  backed  from  its  wharf 
slowly  and  with  many  a  groan.  Heading  down  stream  in 
an  uncertain  fashion,  as  if  it  had  been  aroused  out  of  sound 
sleep,  and  was  not  quite  awake,  the  boat  began  to  settle 
itself  to  its  work. 

Possibly  young  Venable  would  not  have  gone  to  the  sup- 
per-table with  quite  so  much  alacrity,  had  he  known  the 
opinions  of  old  Steve,  the  rough  and  very  tough  negro  hand, 
who  made  the  morning  fires  in  the  wharf  office  of  "The 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  9 

Line,"  and  was  always  on  hand  to  cast  off  the  cables  of 
its  boats  when  they  left  Wednesday  nights.  As  the  Nau- 
tilus drew  itself  painfully  away  from  the  landing,  and  as  if 
out  of  clinging  mire,  Steve  stood  still  for  some  time  upon 
the  shore,  notwithstanding  the  down-pour,  his  wise  old  head 
upon  one  side,  looking  with  a  curiously  solemn  air  at  the 
boat,  very  much  as  if  it  were  at  a  hearse  departing  from  his 
door.  At  last,  with  a  slow  and  sorrowful  shake  of  his  head, 
he  sought  his  home  in  a  dingy  cellar  near  the  wharf,  and 
seated  himself  to  his  pork  and  grits.  Even  then  he  paused, 
knife  and  fork  in  hand,  his  face  full  of  the  same  mournful 
thought. 

"  Dun  gone?  "  asked  his  wife  as  sadly. 

"Dun  gone?"  he  replied.  "Yes,  old  'oman.  De  boat 
dun  gone  agin.  I  know  I's  said  so  for  years ;  but  dis  time 
must  be  de  last.  Old  'oman,  de  Nautilus  can't  stand  it. 
My  Lor' !  It's  unpossible." 

It  was  a  singular  coincidence.  At  the  same  moment  the 
captain  of  the  Nautilus  was  saying  to  his  purser  in  the 
privacy  of  a  glass  or  so  of  hot  whiskey  in  the  stateroom  of 
the  latter,  which  was  also  the  "  office,"  "Think  the  old  tub 
will  pull  through  this  time,  Jim? " 

"  My  life's  insured,"  the  purser  replied  as  coolly.  "  In- 
sured for  my  wife,  heavy.  Best  speculation  I  know.  So  is 
the  Nautilus.  Will  she  pull  through?  Can't  say  I  do. 
Don't  see  how  she  can.  You  heard  those  stevedores,  cap- 
tain ?  They  swore,  only  half  in  joke,  they  must  have  double 
pay  for  putting  that  tobacco  aboard.  The  very  rustabouts 
were  afraid  the  weight  would  jar  the  old  concern  to  flinders 
here  at  the  wharf." 

"Oh,  well !  "  the  other  replied,  as  he  drained  his  tumbler, 
and  drew  on  his  waterproofs  for  deck  service,  "  I'll  resk  it. 
It's  been  a  wonder  to  me  for  ten  years  how  she  stands  it. 
Resk  it  this  time,  any  way  !  " 

Which  was  human  nature.     Even  had  Mr.  Venable  known 


IO  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

every  thing,  being  actually  on  board,  and  the  boat  having 
started,  his  feeling,  too,  would  have  been,  "Very  well :  I'll 
risk  it."  Women  excepted,  the  sentiment  is,  in  all  like  cases, 
spontaneous,  universal,  and  of  practical  use. 

Probably  there  were  others  who,  knowing  of  the  facts,  had 
concluded  not  to  risk  it :  certainly  there  were  few  passen- 
gers at  the  supper-table.  The  only  one  of  these  who  seemed 
disposed  —  with  such  a  roar  of  rain  on  the  roof,  and  such  a 
convulsive  effort  of  the  intermittent  engine  below  —  to  con- 
versation was  an  unusually  large,  florid,  and  genial-faced 
gentleman,  whom  our  passenger  hoped  might  possibly  be  a 
certain  sugar-planter  bearing  a  name  familiar  to  him  of 
late. 

"This  seat,  Gen.  Buttolph,"  the  captain  said,  as  they  sat 
down,  giving  him  the  place  of  honor  on  his  right. 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  from  your  agent,"  the  general  replied, 
as  they  took  their  seats,  —  "  glad  to  know,"  he  repeated  in  a 
hearty  way,  — "  that  the  Nautilus  is  thoroughly  seaworthy. 
Especially  as  it  is  storming  so.  More  especially  still  as  I 
have  my  daughters  with  me  :  they  are  naturally  timid,  as 
well  as  unused  to  the  sea."  / 

"  O  papa  !  how  can  you  say  so  ?  I  adore  the  sea.  You 
know  I  told  you  so."  It  was  the  elder  of  the  two  young 
ladies  seated  by  their  father  who  spoke.  "  It  is  Zeo  you 
mean,"  she  added. 

The  young  passenger  sitting  opposite  them  had  already 
glanced  at  the  sister  alluded  to.  While  the  one  who  spoke 
was  tall  and  fair,  and  apparently  the  most  energetic  and 
talkative  of  the  two,  the  other  was  low  and  dark,  and  yet 
somehow  much  more  attractive  by  reason  of  a  sort  of  mean- 
ing in  the  very  repose  of  her  silence.  That  might  be  mere 
fancy ;  yet  she  held  his  attention  to  a  singular  degree. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  miss.  I  think  you  said  it  was  Miss 
Irene,  general?  "  And  the  captain  hastened  to  add,  "  Have 
some  hot  steak,  ladies.  —  Steward  !  —  You  were  speaking  of 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  II 

the  weather,  general.  It  is  merely  a  little  rain.  We  always 
have  it  as  the  year  goes  out.  Allow  me  to  introduce  Mr. 
—  I  believe  you  said  your  name  was  "  — 

"  Venable,  Hartman  Venable,"  the  person  alluded  to  said, 
with  a  bow  over  his  plate. 

"  I  thought  so,  papa  !  "  the  elder  of  the  young  ladies  ex- 
claimed, with  an  energy  that  brought  the  blood  to  the  cheek 
of  her  sister.  "  You  are,  oh,  so  much  younger  than  we 
expected  !  but  "  — 

"  Irene  !  "  It  was  all  her  sister  said,  not  looking  up  from 
her  plate  in  her  modesty.  But  it  checked  her  impulsive 
sister  as  effectually  as  if  she  had  placed  her  hand  over  her 
mouth. 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Venable,"  their  father  said 
at  the  moment.  "  I  am  Gen.  Buttolph,"  shaking  cordial 
hands  with  him  across  the  table.  "  You  may  remember  the 
name  in  the  correspondence  we  have  had  with  you.  I  am 
pleased  to  know  you,"  and  he  evidently  was. 

To  Mr.  Venable,  after  the  wetting  he  had  got,  and  in  his 
lonely  estate,  just  separated  from  the  entire  world  of  his  life 
up  to  date,  it  was  a  thing  particularly  welcome  to  find  him- 
self with  so  hearty  and  wholesome  a  companion.  In  the 
miserable  little  saloon  tossing  and  tilting,  the  very  presence 
of  such  a  friend  gave  assurance  of  a  substantial  world  yet. 

"  These  are  my  daughters,  sir,"  the  general  added,  waving  a 
large  hand  toward  each.  "  My  eldest,  Irene  ;  my  youngest, 
Zenobia,  but  we  call  her  Zeo.  Zeno  would  have  been  more 
natural  as  a  pet  name  ;  but  he  was  a  philosopher,  somewhat 
sour  I  am  told." 

"  Is  it  all  of  your  family?  "  asked  Mr.  Venable,  with  defer- 
ence, and  merely  to  make  a  beginning. 

"All  except  one, — our  little  boy  in  St.  Jerome;  our 
spoiled  baby,"  the  general  replied.  "  He  is  eight  years  old, 
and  his  name  is  Theodore." 

"Would  you  like  to  know  what  we  call  him?  "  asked  the 
elder  of  the  sisters. 


12  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  please,"  the  young  gentleman  replied, 
falling  into  her  mood. 

"  Grit :  shameful,  isn't  it?  Yes,  Grit :  in  full,  Clear  Grit ; 
he  has  been  so  self-willed  ever  since  he  was  born.  He  is  the 
shortest  and  fattest  boy  you  ever  saw ;  at  least,  he  was  when 
we  left  home  for  school.  He  is  going  to  be,"  Miss  Irene 
continued,  "  the  living  image  of  papa  :  he  will  lengthen  out." 

"  Irene  !  "  It  was  all  that  her  sister  said ;  but  she  again 
yielded  to  the  check,  especially  as  the  general  began  to  speak 
of  St.  Jerome,  the  city  to  which  they  were  all  bound. 

The  military  steward  smiled  grimly  as  he  helped  the  com- 
pany to  hot  biscuit ;  for  the  river  down  which  they  were  sail- 
ing was  soon  to  end  in  the  sea,  —  a  sea  never  more  rough 
than  at  this  season.  He  was  a  Prussian  soldier,  who  had 
deserted  Germany  and  glory  for  America  and  the  saucepan  ; 
but  his  drill  stuck  to  him  still,  and  he  presented  the  uncorked 
mouth  of  the  ale-bottle  to  the  glass  held  out  to  him  by  the 
captain  as  if  it  was  the  point,  instead,  of  his  sword  in  salute. 

"  Come,  captain,"  said  Gen.  Buttolph,  rising  up  after  a 
meal  which  had  been  lengthened  out  by  much  pleasant  talk, 
"  you  long  as  I  do  for  a  cigar  and  for  the  deck,  if  it  does 
rain  ;  "  and  the  two  disappeared.  No  one  remained  but  the 
young  people  and  a  sunburned  seafaring  man  whom  the 
captain  had  introduced  to  them  at  table  as  Capt.  Chaffin, 
but  who  had  eaten  with  mechanical  movement  of  knife  and 
fork,  taking  no  part  in  the  conversation.  Seated  with  his 
chest  and  head  projected  at  a  considerable  angle  with  the 
back  of  his  chair  and  over  the  table,  he  had  struck  Mr. 
Venable  as  being  ridiculously  like  the  figure-head,  carved 
out  of  walnut,  —  so  very  rigid  and  brown  was  he,  —  of  a 
vessel  under  full  sail,  silence  being  apparently  part  of  his 
very  nature. 

Mr.  Venable  had  small  trouble  to  keep  up  the  conversa- 
tion which  followed  after  the  steward  had  cleared  the  table ; 
and  they  had  seated  themselves  again  around  it  under  the 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  13 

uncertain  shining  of  the  lamp  swinging  above,  Miss  Irene 
hastening  to  entertain  him. 

"  If  you  want  to  know  all  about  us,"  she  said,  "  there  is 
one  more  of  our  household  to  tell  you  of.  We  have  got  an 
old  uncle  Plenty  at  home,  and  a  young  Plenty,  and  a  Mrs. 
Plenty,  and  all  the  rest ;  but  there  is  one  more  of  us  on 
board." 

"Irene,"  her  sister  said,  "please  don't.  Mr.  Venable  can 
hardly  care  to  hear  about  our  "  — 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  does  !  you  do,  I'm  sure.  Besides,  we  have 
to  become  well  acquainted  some  day,  and  why  not  at 
once  ?  "  demanded  her  lively  sister.  "  Pa  bought  the  one 
I  mean  in  the  city  yesterday.  I  mention  her  because  I  am 
perplexed  what  to  name  her.  Perhaps  you  can  help  me." 

As  she  spoke  she  indicated  by  a  motion  of  her  thumb 
over  her  shoulder  a  mulatto  girl  who  was  standing  behind 
her  chair.  Mr.  Venable  had  already  noticed  her  casually  as 
the  prettiest  quadroon  he  had  ever  seen.  She  wore  a  good 
deal  of  brass  jewelry  about  her  neck,  ears,  and  hands,  and 
seemed  of  too  slight  a  form  to  do  much  hard  work.  A 
crimson  handkerchief  of  silk  was  wound  about  her  black 
and  abundant  hair;  but  it  was  the  stag-like  eyes  of  the 
girl  that  struck  him  most,  they  were  so  large  and  so  purely 
animal. 

"  I  lay  awake  last  night,  running  over  all  the  names  I 
could  think  of,"  her  voluble  young  mistress  continued, — 
"  Flora,  Cleopatra,  Juno,  Gloriana.  How  would  Indiana 
do?" 

"  Very  well,"  the  gentleman  said ;  "  but,  as  you  may  know, 
I  have  been  for  the  last  six  years  in  college  and  seminary, 
and  have  hardly  seen  one  of  your  sex.  How  would  Iphi- 
genia  do?  "  he  added. 

"Admirably.  —  Remember,"  the  young  lady  said  to  her 
attendant,  "  your  name  is  Iphigenia,  —  Iph-i-genia :  don't 
forget." 


14  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"  Yes'm,"  the  servant  replied  with  a  ready  smile,  and 
showing  her  white  teeth.  Miss  Irene  changed  the  conversa- 
tion, and  Miss  Zenobia  seated  by  her  was  contented  to  listen 
while  the  other  proceeded  to  tell  Mr.  Venable  that  they  had 
not  been  in  St.  Jerome  since  their  mother's  death,  two  years 
ago ;  but  she  gave  him  a  full  description  of  the  place  and 
people  up  to  that  date.  Then,  in  answer  to  a  question  which 
it  required  some  swiftness  on  the  young  man's  part  to  slip  in, 
she  gave  an  account  of  their  school.  Mr.  Venable  enjoyed 
the  rapid  talk  of  the  eager  girl,  her  hands  and  her  fine  eyes 
as  incessantly  in  motion  as  her  tongue.  And  a  vast  deal  she 
had  to  tell  about  the  principal  of  the  school,  "  the  hateful 
madame  ;  the  wretch,  she  painted  so  !  "  she  said  at  last.  At 
the  word,  Capt.  Chaffin,  reading  near  them,  lowered  his 
paper  as  by  a  spasm,  but  lifted  it  again  as  she  added,  "  Her 
cheeks,  I  mean,"  and  proceeded  to  speak  of  "  the  splendid 
drives"  about  the  school,  "the  miserable  cookery,"  "the 
awful  meanness  "  of  the  school  gardener,  and  of  his  "adora- 
ble flowers."  Then,  in  reply  to  a  question,  she  hoped  they 
would  have  a  real  storm  at  sea,  it  was  "  so  romantic,"  and  a 
good  deal  to  that  effect.  All  the  time  their  bronzed  fellow- 
passenger  had  been  seated  with  a  newspaper,  evidently  ab- 
sorbed in  the  slowly-read  shipping  intelligence,  no  more 
interested  in  her  rapid  talk  than  if  it  had  been,  instead,  the 
whistling  of  a  blackbird.  And  so  for  an  hour.  "  But,  O 
Mr.  Venable  !  you  ought  to  have  seen  our  school  gallery," 
she  was  saying  at  last.  "  We  had,  I  do  believe,  some  of  the 
most  glorious  paintings."  At  the  word  the  man  laid  down 
his  paper  with  an,  — 

"Ahem!"  There  was  such  metallic  sound  in  the  ex- 
clamation, that  the  energetic  speaker  paused.  "  Ahem  ! 
Pardon  me.  You  were  speaking  of  paintings,"  Capt.  Chaf- 
fin interposed,  in  dry  accents.  "  My  wife  paints ;  "  and  he 
turned  his  eyes  slowly  and  steadily  upon  his  three  compan- 
ions, each  in  turn,  to  see  the  effect  of  the  announcement. 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  15 

There  was  dead  silence  for  a  moment ;  and  then,  with  a  sud- 
den light  breaking  upon  her  face,  the  elder  sister  turned 
upon  the  younger,  opening  her  eyes  to  their  utmost  while 
she  slowly  drew  in  her  breath,  —  an  expression  of  comic 
wonder  on  her  face.  But  Mr.  Venable's  attention  was  drawn 
from  every  thing  else  by  the  prompt  action  of  Miss  Zenobia, 
who  had  hitherto  sat  so  silent :  there  was  quiet  energy  in  it 
as  she  laid  firm  hold  upon  her  sister's  arm,  as  if  to  prevent 
some  explosion,  and  said, — 

"  You  are  Mrs.  Capt.  Chaffmgsby's  husband ;  are  you  not, 
sir?" 

"  Chaffingsby,  or  Chaffin.  Yes,  miss,"  he  answered  :  "  I'm 
Capt.  Chaffin.  It's  my  wife  who  — paints"  with  stress  on 
the  last  word.  "You've  seen  her  paintings,  miss?"  —  with 
slow  but  proud  expectation. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  replied,  tightening  her  hold  on  her  sister's 
arm,  and  coloring,  but  with  great  sweetness ;  "  and  I  was 
much  struck  by  them.  Irene  ! "  she  added,  and  then, 
"  please  excuse  us." 

"  It's  the  coming-on  of  sea-sickness,  sir,"  Capt.  Chaffin 
said,  in  low  and  solemn  accents,  to  young  Venable,  as  the 
ladies  withdrew  somewhat  hastily. 

"Why,  hardly,"  his  companion  said  :  "we  won't  be  out  of 
the  river  for  hours." 

"  No,  not  you  and  me,"  said  Capt.  Chaffin  in  a  hollow 
whisper  behind  his  hand.  "  It's  their  sex.  We  are  nothing 
but  men,  you  see,"  with  a  downward  motion  of  his  brown 
hand,  and  an  odd  contempt  upon  his  stolid  face.  "  Men  ! 
They  are  weemen  !  We  are  tough,  very  tough.  They're 
as  dedicate,  now,  as  dreadful  dedicate  as  —  as  — a — a — sea- 
shell.  That's  where  they  get  their  nice  tastes  and  touches. 
That's  how  they  come  by  their  per-ception  of  beauty,  their 
genius.  There's  my  wife,  now ; "  and  the  speaker  paused 
at  the  word,  and  sat,  his  head  projected  fonvard,  his  eyes 
fastened  upon  the  other  side  of  the  saloon,  in  rigid  medita- 
tion concerning  the  lady  alluded  to. 


l6  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

"Have  you  any  family  besides?"  his  companion  asked, 
at  last,  since  there  evidently  was  so  much  of  interest  left 
unsaid. 

"  Two  children,"  Capt.  Chaffin  replied,  —  "  one  boy,  one 
girl,  twins,  —  Clara,  Charles.  But  I  was  not  speaking  of 
them"  he  added,  in  such  tones,  that,  although  not  knowing 
at  all  why  he  should  do  so,  Mr.  Venable  said,  "  Ah  !  pray 
excuse  me." 

"I  was  speaking  of  my  wife,"  the  other  continued,  as  if 
he  were  speaking  of  a  city  or  an  empire,  —  "my  wife  ; "  and 
he  turned  his  face  full  upon  his  companion,  and  announced 
it  as  if  it  were  a  doctrine  of  theology  or  science.  "  She 
paints.  Paints  pictures.  She  is  the  slightest  woman  you 
ever  saw.  Pale.  Thin.  Dedicate.  A  breeze  would  blow 
her  away.  A  bad  smell  hits  her  like  a  capstan  bar.  You 
might  as  well  put  a  bullet  in  her  stomach  as  a  tough  steak, 

—  from  a  pistol,  I  mean.     It  is  because  she  is  all  gone  to 
soul.     She  paints  pictures,  —  pictures  almost  as  large  as  the 
side  of  a  ship." 

"  Ah  !  "  the  other  replied,  greatly  interested.  "  I  will  be 
glad  to  know  her.  I  am  fond  of  pictures.  I  presume  she 
paints  landscapes  ?  " 

"  Landscapes  !  "  Capt.  Chaffin  ejaculated,  with  contempt. 
"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Nor  seascapes  either.  She  paints  "  — 
and  very  slowly  he  added,  after  a  pause,  and  in  words 
each  to  itself,  —  "  she  paints  Prophets.  Apostles.  Kings. 
Martyrs.  Evangelists.  Seraphim.  Cherubim.  Archangels. 
She  has  painted  "  —  and  he  looked  steadily  in  the  wondering 
eyes  of  his  new  friend,  — "  has  painted  our  Lord  himself, 
and  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration  at  that.  She  wanted  " 

—  and  the  seaman   looked   so   long,  without   adding  any 
thing,  into  the  eyes  of  the  other,  that  Mr.  Venable  had  to 
say,  "  She  wanted  —  may  I  ask  what?  " 

"  She  wanted  to  paint  him  on  his  throne  in  heaven,  and 
surrounded  by  all  his  saints  !  That  I  would  not  allow.  I 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  I/ 

said,  No!  I  said,"  continued  Capt.  Chaffin,  "'You  are 
already  as  slim  and  frail,  Angeline,  as  a  bubble.  You  eat 
nothing.  You  never  sleep.  Your  soul  is  grand,  but  your 
body  has  to  have  its  rations  too.  As  your  husband,  Ange- 
line, you  shall  not!  Apart  from  Charles  and  Clara,  you  have 
other  duties.  Better  slacken  down  instead.  Slow  yourself 
down,  if  you  must  paint,  by  letting  it  be  Phip  Quatty,  or  me  ; 
ease  yourself  down  to  a  horse  or  a  dog  or  a  negro  baby ; 
any  thing.'  I  tell  you,  sir,  —  for  she  wouldn't,  she  screamed 
at  the  idea,  —  I  tell  you,  sir" —  and  Capt.  Chaffin  leaned, 
in  his  kindling  enthusiasm,  nearer  to  the  one  addressed, 
lowering  his  tones  to  a  whisper  in  the  fervor  of  his  feeling, 
"  I  tell  you,  sir  " — 

But,  on  the  instant,  Gen.  Buttolph  and  the  captain  of 
the  Nautilus  returned  from  deck.  With  their  return  the 
light  faded  suddenly  from  the  face  of  the  admiring  husband. 
He  drew  himself  back  from  his  companion,  took  up  his 
newspaper  again,  and  was  nothing  but  a  walnut  figure-head 
as  before.  "  It  was  well  I  did,"  he  added,  full  ten  minutes 
after,  in  a  whisper  to  Mr.  Venable,  from  behind  cover  of 
his  paper,  — "  well  I  did  !  It  would  have  killed  her,  sir, — 
killed  her  dead." 


1 8  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 


CHAPTER   II. 

IN    WHICH    WE    FIND    THAT    TO    LEAVE    AN    OLD    WORLD    IS   NOT 
ALWAYS  TO   STEP  ASHORE   RIGHT  AWAY   UPON   A   NEW. 

HARTMAN  VENABLE  went  to  his  stateroom  as  Gen. 
Buttolph  and  the  captain  of  the  vessel  entered  the 
cabin.  Entertaining  as  Miss  Irene's  talk  was,  and  still  more 
attractive  to  him  as  was  her  silent  sister,  he  had  been 
wishing  to  do  so  for  some  time.  With  the  first  day  rapidly 
approaching  of  the  new  year  he  would  be  twenty-one  ;  and 
he  intended,  before  he  went  to  sleep,  to  make  a  new  and 
special  consecration  of  himself  to  his  work. 

His  history  up  to  that  moment  can  be  put  into  a  brief 
compass.  Born  in  a  Southern  State,  his  parents  had  died 
as  he  left  school,  leaving  him  without  brother  or  sister,  and, 
as  he  was  quite  poor,  no  relative  to  claim  any  interest  in 
him.  By  hard  work  he  had  contrived  to  scramble  through 
college,  and,  after  that,  through  a  training  for  the  pulpit. 
Owing  to  the  stringency  of  his  circumstances,  he  had  been 
compelled  to  devote  himself  to  his  studies  to  the  neglect 
of  his  bodily  strength.  He  stood  none  the  less  at  the  head 
of  his  class  when  he  graduated  at  the  Northern  seminary 
in  which  his  course  was  completed.  When,  therefore,  the 
institution  was  written  to  for  their  best  man,  from  the  impor- 
tant South-western  city  of  St.  Jerome,  he  was  immediately 
selected  and  sent.  Like  the  wheat-seed  held  so  long  in  the 
hand  of  the  Egyptian  mummy,  his  arrested  health  and  vigor 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  19 

needed  but  the  opportunity  to  assert  itself.  Conscious  that 
he  had  been  too  long  shut  up  to  books  and  from  men,  he 
was  eager  to  give  himself  heartily  in  whatever  direction  his 
work  should  open  to  him  ;  specially  glad  to  get  back  to 
his  native  South,  and  into  so  fresh  and  promising  a  part 
thereof. 

But  he  had  not  counted  upon  coming  so  soon  in  his 
career  upon  ladies  like  these,  and  especially  upon  one  such 
as  the  younger  of  the  two  sisters.  The  older  of  them  had 
told  him,  amid  a  good  deal  of  other  information,  that  Zeo 
was  not  yet  eighteen  ;  and  he  felt,  that,  being  three  years  her 
senior,  he  had  a  right  to  admire  her  as  the  loveliest  lady  he 
had  ever  seen ;  to  admire  her  so  much,  in  fact,  separated 
as  he  had  been  from  the  sex  so  long,  as  materially  to  inter- 
fere with  the  train  of  meditation  he  had  intended  to  pursue. 

As  he  strove  to  turn  his  mind  from  her,  there  was  a  knock 
at  his  door,  and  the  captain  of  the  steamer  came  in. 

"I  didn't  like  to  mention  it,"  he  said  mysteriously,  "to 
Gen.  Buttolph,  seeing  he  has  his  daughters  aboard." 

"  Sir?  "  the  other  said.     "  I  do  not  understand  "  — 

"  I  would  rather  you  would  not  lock  yourself  in  to-night," 
the  captain  said  in  a  low  tone,  closing  the  door  of  the  little 
room  after  him. 

"Why  not?"  demanded  the  other,  in  surprise. 

"  I'm  not  the  agent,"  the  captain  said,  "  and  of  course 
you'll  be  quiet  about  it.  I  don't  sell  the  tickets,  nor  do  any 
of  the  writing-out,  any  more  than  I  do  the  sticking-up,  of 
the  steamship  posters.  It's  very  stormy,  and  the  Nautilus 
wasn't  launched  yesterday." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  the  other  repeated,  under- 
standing him  perfectly  none  the  less,  more  from  the  manner 
of  the  captain  than  from  his  words. 

"Yes,  you  do,"  the  seaman  said.  "And  Gen.  Buttolph, 
too ;  he  ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  bring  his  girls 
aboard.  But  she  may  stand  it."  With  which  words  he 
withdrew. 


2O  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

Young  and  strong  as  he  was,  the  passenger  felt  a  numb- 
ness in  his  very  fingers'  ends  as  he  shut  his  door ;  and  then, 
drawing  on  his  overcoat,  but  exchanging  his  boots  for  a  pair 
of  slippers  from  his  trunk,  —  as  a  sort  of  gear  he  could  more 
easily  kick  off  in  case  there  was  any  swimming  to  be  done,  — 
he  stole  out  by  way  of  the  deserted  cabin  to  the  deck.  The 
rain  had  ceased,  as  if  blown  out  of  existence  by  the  furious 
wind.  It  was  as  dark  as  if  the  darkness  was  a  solid  some- 
thing pinning  them  down  upon  the  writhing  sea  for  the  wind 
to  scourge.  The  lantern  aloft  and  the  light  in  the  binnacle 
only  made  the  night  seem  more  dense  and  dreadful.  Not 
merely  the  howling  hatred,  as  it  were,  of  the  wind :  the 
motion,  too,  of  the  vessel  rendered  it  impossible  to  stand ; 
and,  staggering  to  one  side,  the  youth  laid  hold  upon  what 
he  took  to  be  a  mass  of  sail,  very  wet.  "  What  pitiful 
insects  we  are  ! "  he  said,  trying  to  adjust  himself  to  a  new 
and  peculiar  rise  and  fall  of  the  steamship  as  it  left  the  river 
for  the  gea.  "Listen  to  the  consumptive  rattle  of  that 
engine  below.  Three  wise  men  of  Gotham  went  to  sea  hi 
a  bowl.  If  the  bowl  had  been  stronger,  my  song  had  been 
longer.  One  ought  to  have  serious  thoughts.  It  is  strange 
I  should  be  so  foolish  just  now,  and  so  glad  too.  But,  yes, 
how  weak  is  man  "  — 

"Like  being  aboard  an  egg-shell,"  the  roll  of  sail  to 
which,  as  he  supposed,  he  had  been  holding,  remarked  at 
this  moment,  in  a  lull  of  the  wind. 

"  You  don't  think  she  is  strong,"  he  replied,  letting  go  in 
his  surprise,  then  laying  hold  of  him  again. 

"Strong  enough,"  his  companion  said,  when  another 
pause  of  the  wind  allowed,  "for  a  pickerel  pond,  with 
weemin  for  a  crew.  Weemin  ought  never  to  go  from 
shore  :  their  sphere  is  on  land,  where  things  "  —  and  the 
last  words  had  to  be  spoken  in  a  shout  —  "is  tasty  and 
deel-i-cate" — at  the  top  of  his  voice,  such  was  the  fury 
of  the  wind ;  and  Mr.  Venable  knew  that  the  bundle  of 
dripping  sail  was  no  other  than  Capt.  Chaffin. 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  21 

"Why  did  the  captain  start?  Why  didn't  he  anchor 
before  we  left  the  river?"  the  other  shouted,  as  the  storm 
lowered  enough  to  allow  of  it.  But  the  tempest  was  howl- 
ing the  same  questions,  with  (as  in  the  case  of  every  thing 
when  it  is  working  itself  into  a  passion)  ascending  inflec- 
tions ;  and  Capt.  Chaffin  had  to  wait,  —  to  wait  so  long,  that, 
absorbed  in  the  grandeur  of  the  occasion,  young  Venable 
had  forgotten  what  he  had  asked,  when,  the  uproar  allowing 
of  it,  his  companion  shouted,  — 

"  Instructions  !  Insured  !  Money  !  They  stay  &-shore  !  " 
the  last  syllable  in  competition  with  the  blast  rising  again. 
The  young  man  understood  it  as  an  allusion  to  the  owners ; 
yet,  terrible  as  the  hour  was,  he  had  no  wish  to  be  on  shore 
with  them.  Although  he  was  slightly  built  for  his  years,  and 
pretty  thoroughly  exhausted  by  a  course  of  hard  study ;  and 
although  the  midnight  lamp  had  been  fed,  in  fact,  by  the  fat 
(if  such  an  impropriety  may  be  allowed)  of  his  body,  —  the 
marrow  of  his  youthful  bones  having  been  fallen  back  upon 
when  that  was  gone,  —  yet  the  over-culture  of  mind  had 
resulted  in  the  increase  of  that  which  is  the  very  fat  and 
marrow  of  the  mind,  will-power.  Will,  —  the  most  splendid 
gift  God  gives,  and  that  which  most  establishes  our  kinship 
to  the  Executive  of  the  universe.  It  did  its  best,  the  will  of 
this  young  man,  to  make  up  to  and  for  the  body  what  it  had 
stolen  from  the  body.  It  helped  the  eyes  to  see,  where  they 
would  otherwise  have  been  shut ;  it  made  the  feet  go,  the 
hands  work,  the  lips  laugh,  the  heart  beat  as  merrily  as  a 
kettle-drum ;  and  all  when,  apart  from  such  a  will,  the  wea- 
ried body  couldn't  and  wouldn't.  At  that  instant  the  stom- 
ach of  the  man  would  have  been  deadly  seasick ;  but  the 
man  himself,  which  means  the  man's  will,  would  not  hear  of 
such  a  thing.  Bodily  speaking,  he  was  in  awful  fear  of  being 
drowned,  if  it  were  not  that  this  will  of  his,  since  it  could 
not  be  drowned  by  all  the  water  earth  has,  would  not  let  him 
be  afraid,  —  made  him  glad  instead. 


22  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

As  Capt.  Chaffin  shouted  the  last  words  recorded,  there 
had  been  a  general  movement  of  the  crew  forward ;  one 
could  feel  it  was  so,  rather  than  see  it  in  the  darkness,  or 
hear  it  in  the  uproar.  A  yell  from  the  seaman  by  his  side 
sounded  like  "  pumps  ! "  and,  clinging  to  his  companion,  the 
young  man  crowded  a  place  for  himself  at  the  brakes,  and 
worked  as  he  had  never  wrought  before,  even  at  the  toughest 
place  in  his  Hebrew  Bible.  After  some  hours  of  this,  and 
when  he  could  pump  no  more,  another  way  of  working  came 
into  his  mind.  Staggering,  tumbling,  crawling,  rolling  from 
side  to  side  with  the  laboring  vessel,  aided  by  an  opportune 
pitch  of  the  same  in  that  direction,  he  descended  the  stairs 
into  the  cabin.  Gathering  himself  up,  for  he  had  fallen 
head  foremost,  he  worked  his  way  to  Gen.  Buttolph's  state- 
room, and,  after  banging  at  the  door  in  vain,  opened  it  and 
went  in.  To  his  astonishment  the  general  had  wedged  him- 
self tight  into  his  berth  by  means  of  his  carpet-bags  and 
valises,  and  was  sound  asleep.  An  unusually  large  man,  in 
full  flesh,  the  power  in  this  case  lay  on  the  side  of  the  body. 
It  used  its  dead  force  in  that  direction,  and  slept ;  slept  under 
the  inertia  of  his  full  weight  down  that  line,  slept  like  a  big 
babe  being  rocked  by  the  ocean  as  if  it  were  its  mother,  so 
profoundly  that  his  visitor  had  great  difficulty  in  awakening 
and  then  in  explaining  matters  to  him.  On  the  instant  of 
entering  the  room,  he  had  observed  a  strong  smell  of  bran- 
dy, so  strong  that  he  had  said  to  himself,  "  I  suppose  the 
general  brought  a  flask  in  case  of  sickness,  and  it  has  got 
smashed.  Whew  !  It  must  have  been  a  demijohn  instead 
of  a  flask." 

"  Miss  Buttolph  !  "  he  cried,  beating  at  the  door  of  the 
ladies'  room  while  the  father  very  slowly  and  stupidly  arose 
and  dressed  himself,  "  Miss  Zenobia  !  Miss  Irene  !  Don't  be 
alarmed.  Please  get  up  !  " 

He  need  not  have  slipped  into  his  own  room  after  doing 
so,  as  hastily  as  he  did  ;  for,  although  Miss  Zenobia  came  out 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  23 

on  the  instant,  she  had  been  neither  undressed  nor  asleep. 
On  returning  he  saw,  by  the  dim  shining  of  the  lamp  swing- 
ing violently  to  and  fro,  that  the  general  and  his  daughters 
had  come  into  the  saloon,  and  were  holding  to  each  other 
and  to  the  table.  Hardly  awake  as  yet,  the  father  was  ex- 
plaining to  them  that  there  was  no  cause  for  alarm  at  all,  no 
actual  danger.  "  At  the  same  time,"  he  repeated,  "  it  is  best 
to  be  awake  and  prepared ;  "  and  he  continued  repeating 
at  intervals,  "  best  to  be  prepared,  best  to  be  prepared,"  in  a 
somewhat  sodden  manner  which  surprised  his  new  acquaint- 
ance. 

As  Venable  looked  at  the  general  saying  this,  he  saw  that 
there  is  a  sort  of  strength  in  avoirdupois  too ;  and  in  a 
man  on  that  account  as  well  as  in  a  pyramid.  Evidently  the 
general  felt  in  a  dull  sort  of  way  the  peril  they  were  in; 
knew  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  await  the  result,  was 
apathetic,  and  therefore  calm.  There  was,  however,  both  in 
the  general  and  his  elder  daughter,  an  air  of  deference  to 
the  younger  of  the  sisters,  which  perplexed  their  companion. 
Both  father  and  daughter  seemed  as  children  in  a  certain 
indefinable  bearing  on  their  part  toward  her.  And  this  was 
the  more  striking  by  reason  of  the  comparative  quietness 
and  silence  of  the  one  they  seemed  so  to  lean  upon.  There 
was  nothing  their  fellow-passenger  could  do  on  deck  until 
he  had  rested  a  little ;  and,  with  the  quickened  eyes  of  his 
great  excitement,  he  could  not  but  closely  observe  the  two 
sisters.  He  had  heard  the  shriek  of  Irene,  who  had  been 
almost  as  sound  asleep  as  her  father,  when  her  sister  had  first 
awakened  her,  followed  by  outcries  on  her  part,  and  lamen- 
tations, shrill  and  unceasing.  Her  clothing  had  been  hast- 
ily put  on,  more  by  her  sister's  hands  than  her  own ;  and 
now,  with  streaming  hair,  and  hands  clutching  at  and  clinging 
to  every  object  and  person  around,  she  kept  exclaiming,  — 

"  O  father  !  O  Zeo  !  what  shall  we  do  ?  Why  did  you 
make  us  come  ?  Oh,  how  it  rolls  and  tosses  !  Every  dish  on 


24  A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

board  must  be  broken.  How  wet  we  will  get !  And  there 
is  poor  brother  Grit.  What  will  become  of  Grit  if  Zeo  is 
drowned  ?  He  is  so  bad,  so  very  bad  !  Where  is  Mr.  Vena- 
ble  ?  Oh,  here  you  are  !  Can't  you  do  something  to  stop  it  ? 
I  am  so  wicked,  I  don't  want  to  die.  O  Zeo,  Zeo  !  "  and  it 
was  the  firm  grasp  of  her  younger  sister  upon  her  which 
seemed  to  hold  her  from  greater  violence.  Even  at  that 
moment,  the  wind  coming  and  going  like  a  charge  of  cavalry, 
the  sea  surging  over  the  deck  with  a  hissing  wash,  now  and 
then  the  yell  and  jump  of  some  one  of  the  crew  upon  the 
roof  overhead,  —  amid  it  all  Venable  could  not  refrain  from 
wondering  at  the  contrast  of  Zeo  to  the  other.  He  had 
casually  admired  her  black  hair  and  eyes,  and  the  moulded 
contour  of  cheek  and  lip  and  chin ;  but  the  repose  of  her 
manner  had  seemed  so  full  of  strength,  as  in  relief  against 
the  unrest  of  her  sister,  that  he  had,  during  all  their  gay 
talk  the  hours  before,  listened  only  less  to  her  silence  than 
he  had  to  her  sister's  incessant  and  amusing  speech.  In 
some  way  the  modest  girl  seemed  to  be  taller  and  stronger 
now.  She  had  more  to  say,  the  authority  of  her  words  as 
marked  as  their  sweetness ;  the  general  as  well  as  Irene  giv- 
ing an  attention  and  value  to  them,  the  looker-on  tried  once 
more,  but  in  vain,  to  account  for.  And  so  the  storm  con- 
tinued to  rage  ;  the  elder  daughter  passing  from  one  passion- 
ate appeal  to  another,  struggling  to  rise,  and  held  down  more 
by  the  hand  and  voice  of  her  sister  than  of  her  father.  It 
was  a  curious  study  to  their  fellow-passenger,  too,  to  see  how 
passive  the  portly  general  was,  even  at  the  worst  assaults  of 
the  tempest.  Singularly  lethargic,  but  with  an  occasional 
hopeful  word,  he  did  not  arise  from  his  seat  the  night 
through ;  his  elder  daughter  weeping,  praying,  remonstrating 
with  her  father  for  bringing  them,  subsiding  into  quiet  not 
until  worn  out  or  stilled,  as  a  fractious  child  might  be,  by  the 
low-spoken  girl  to  whom  she  clung.  As  to  Venable,  the  night 
fled  fast  enough,  going  to,  and  coming  back  when  utterly  ex- 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  2$ 

hausted  by  hard  work  from,  the  pumps.  There  were  rapid 
periods  on  his  part,  of  prayer ;  the  periods,  however,  of  prac- 
tical piety  at  the  pumps,  were  much  the  longest.  He  could 
not  but  observe  as  he  worked,  crowded  in  among  the  crew, 
how  their  profanity,  too,  became,  like  his  own  supplications, 
terser  and  more  thoroughly  intended. 

In  going  and  returning  to  and  from  deck,  he  had  observed 
a  heap  of  what  seemed  woman's  clothing  lying  in  a  corner 
of  the  cabin.  It  almost  startled  him  to  see,  when  the,  vessel 
was  struck  with  a  harder  wave  than  usual,  a  pale  face  and  a 
pair  of  terrified  eyes  looking  out  from  the  heap.  It  was  the 
quadroon  girl,  deadly  sick,  and  even  more  utterly  helpless 
than  the  ladies ;  and  in  that  condition  she  remained,  with 
scarce  a  motion  of  life,  during  the  three  days  of  the  tempest. 
She  was  a  beautiful  and  terrified  animal,  nothing  more  either 
to  the  others  or  to  herself  than  that. 

As  the  young  man  was  going  back  to  the  deck  on  one 
occasion,  after  resting  a  little  in  the  saloon,  the  younger  of 
the  sisters  accompanied  him.  The  elder  was  lying  worn  out 
in  her  father's  arms  ;  and  wrapping  herself  up,  with  merely  a 
word  of  request  to  that  effect,  not  heeding  his  remonstrances, 
she  silently  persisted  in  going  outside.  The  instant  they 
stepped  on  deck,  she  laid  hold  on  the  nearest  rope,  taut  as  a 
harp-string  in  the  wet  and  strain  on  it,  and  abandoned  his  arm 
altogether.  It  was  as  if  she  wanted  to  face  and  see  for  her- 
self the  utmost  of  the  peril.  Not  that  any  thing  was  really 
to  be  seen.  So  small  a  portion  of  the  vessel  itself  was  visi- 
ble in  the  pitchy  darkness,  that  it  might  have  been  a  nutshell 
on  which  they  stood ;  the  smoke-stack  beside  them,  and  its 
whirl  overhead  of  sparks,  absurdly  too  large  for  the  seem- 
ing size  of  the  bit  of  boat  -writhing  and  rolling  and  pitching 
beneath.  But  the  wind,  the  wind  !  It  was  as  if  the  force 
of  the  universe  had  broken  bounds,  and  was  upon  them ; 
simply  force,  invisible,  irresistible,  —  force  pure  and  awful. 
It  seemed  to  Venable  as  if  it  were  sufficient  to  blow  the 
earth  from  its  orbit. 


26  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

"  As  Sure  as  I  live,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  this  tremendous 
power  and  pressure  upon  me,  as  upon  every  one  here,  is 
intended  to  effect  some  commensurate  result.  What  re- 
sult?" 

His  companion  remained  beside  him  in  the  darkness  as  if 
she,  too,  enjoyed  the  storm.  They  stood  side  by  side  in 
silence,  holding  on  only  by  firmest  grasp  upon  rope  and 
spar,  until  a  shriek  from  her  sister,  for  the  first  time  missing 
her  from  the  saloon,  recalled  the  young  girl  below  deck. 
Her  companion  assisted  her  down,  and  returned  again ;  and 
so  the  hours  wore  by  as  if  they  were  being  slowly  ground 
away  in  the  mill  of  the  tempest. 

As  day  dawned  Capt.  Chaffin  lowered  himself  down  the 
companion-way.  Irene  lifted  her  head,  her  hair  falling  in 
disorder  around  it,  for  he  struck  violently  against  the  table 
in  taking  a  seat.  She  looked  vacantly  at  him  a  moment, 
dazed  with  exhaustion  after  her  excitement,  and  then,  to  the 
astonishment  of  Venable,  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter 
which  threatened  to  become  hysterical. 

"  I  understand,"  the  captain  said  to  Venable,  seated 
beside  him.  "  It's  their  nature.  Excitable.  That's  where 
they  ain't  like  us.  Their  pecooliar  power  lies  just  there  ;  " 
and  the  seaman  sat  steadily  in  his  seat,  rigid  as  oak,  ex- 
cept for  an  admiring  deference  in  his  manner  to  the  ladies 
present. 

"After  what  she  has  stood,"  he  said  in  reply  to  a  low 
question  from  Gen.  Buttolph  about  the  boat,  "  she  cannot 
hold  together.  We  must  go  down  "  —  But,  almost  before 
the  words  were  spoken,  the  other  passenger  anticipated  the 
outcries  of  any  there  by  saying,  "  Let  us  pray."  It  was 
hard  to  hold  themselves  in  a  kneeling  posture  around  the 
table ;  but  there  was  deep  silence  during  the  short  prayer, 
and  when  they  arose  a  calmness  deeper  still  had  fallen  upon 
all  there. 

"  Ahem  !    It's  a  miracle  we're  afloat,"  Capt.  Chaffin  said, 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  2/ 

breaking  in  upon  the  silence.  "  After  last  night  the  Nau- 
tilus may  hold  together  for  ever  and  ever,  for  all  I  know. 
And  it  don't  matter,  any  way.  My  wife's  in  St.  Jerome. 
With  this  awful  north-easter  a-blowing,  she  might  as  well  be 
aboard  this  old  canoe.  You  know  it,  general :  you  live 
there.  The  wind  has  banked  up  the  water  of  the  bay,  the 
rivers  and  such  like  pouring  into  the  bay  steady.  St.  Je- 
rome's a  good  two  to  six  feet  under  water  now.  A  house  is 
worse  to  go  to  sea  in  than  even  this  old  boat.  If  this  wind 
holds,  St.  Jerome's  gone  under,  sure's  you're  alive  !  We 
might  as  well  be  here  ;  "  and  Gen.  Buttolph  gave  Mr.  Vena- 
ble  a  slight  nod  of  assent.  The  general  had  been  thinking, 
doubtless,  of  nothing  else,  and  it  accounted  perhaps  for  his 
passive  condition. 

"St.  Jerome,"  he  said  at  last,  "is  a  beautiful  city;  but  it 
is  built  on  a  reef  of  sand." 

"  And  twenty  feet  of  water  piled  up  on  it  by  this  wind 
would  melt  it  as  if  it  was  a  lump  of  salt,"  Capt.  Chaffin 
added  sententiously.  "  Every  now  and  then  the  yellow-fever 
pounces  down  on  the  island.  Almost  all  who  stay  die  :  all 
the  rest  run  away  inland.  They  come  back  as  soon  as  it's 
all  over,  and  say,  '  Pshaw !  the  yellow-fever  may  not  come 
again  for  years.'  So  with  an  overflow :  the  city  comes 
within  an  ace  of  destruction.  There's  a  terrible  to-do, — 
ships  dashing  against  houses,  sloops  away  up  the  streets. 
All  at  once  the  wind  goes  down ;  out  goes  the  ocean.  The 
island  gives  itself  a  shake  like  a  Newfoundland  dog  com- 
ing out  of  water.  '  Nonsense  ! '  they  say  to  strangers  :  '  it 
didn't  drown  us  out  at  last,  and  it  may  not  happen  again  for 
a  century ; '  and  at  it  we  all  go  again,  a-bargaining  and 
a-building,  and  a-making  fun  of  Chemaraw,  the  next  city 
higher  up  inland." 

No  one  denied  the  statements  of  the  experienced  mariner, 
and  he  continued,  — 

"  We  all  have  noticed  how  lively  frogs  are  after  a  heavy 


28  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

rain ;  the  birds  singing  in  the  chapparal  too,  for  that  matter, 
as  chirky  as  you  please.  So  it  is  with  people  on  the  island. 
Things  get  to  be  flat  and  dull.  Very  well.  A  good  over- 
flow comes.  The  Chemaraw  people  sing  out,  '  Told  you 
so  !  You'd  better  give  it  up,  and  move  your  city  up  here.' 
That  and  the  storm  stirs  up  St.  Jerome.  The  town  is  never 
so  full  of  brag  as  when  it  is  drying  itself.  They  are  as  gen- 
erous to  the  losers  as  you  please,  and  full  of  life  and  fun. 
Mr.  Parsons  flies  around,  and  says,  '  What  do  you  think  of 
Hacamac  now  ? '  and  plasters  the  town  all  over  with  his 
posters,  giving  away  his  lots  there  to  whoever  will  build.  I 
have  noticed  it  makes  Phip  Quatty's  very  horses  go  faster, 
to  say  nothing  of  him  on  Wednesday  nights  at  prayer-meet- 
ing. And  there's  my  wife,"  Capt.  Chaffin  added,  after  a 
long  silence,  since  no  one  else  would  cheer  away  the  anxiety 
of  the  hour  :  "  she  paints.  She  generally  paints.  Not  like 
she  does  after  an  overflow  !  ah,  but  how  she  goes  to  work 
with  her  brush  and  things  after  that !  I  tell  her  to  paint  a 
storm.  But  no.  Then  let  it  be  a  ship,  I  tell  her,  under  all 
sail ;  say  a  steamship  under  a  full  head  of  steam,  plenty  of 
smoke,  and  in  the  trough  of  the  sea  while  the  gale  is  blow- 
ing. '  Let  it  be  a  bayou-boat  exploding  her  boiler,  my  dear,' 
I  say  to  her,  '  all  hands  a-flying  through  the  air.'  — '  Never  ! 
A  living  being,'  she  says,  '  in  this  world  or  the  other,  angel 
or  martyr,  is  the  only  thing.'  Maybe  she  is  right.  She 
never  painted  any  thing  but  a  conqueror,  or  an  apostle  of 
some  sort,  in  her  life,  —  always  the  grandest  people  and 
when  they  are  doing  their  very  best.  Yes  ;  and  I  can  put  my 
hand  on  her  Elymas,  say,  struck  blind  by  Paul,  or  the  man 
that  was  healed  in  Jerusalem,  shaking  his  fist  at  the  council 
of  Jews,  and  say,  'That  was  painted  after  a  storm,  and  I 
know  it.'  She  puts,  you  see,  such  an  overflow-like  into  the 
thing.  Yes,  sir.  How  a  storm  does  stir  her  up,  and  start 
her  again  ! " 

But  the  ladies  had  gone  to  their  room  at  the  captain's 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  29 

first  allusion  to  his  wife,  and  even  Mr.  Venable  was  too 
tired  to  express  much  interest.  After  sitting  a  while  in 
silence,  Capt.  Chaffin  somewhat  indignantly  arose,  and  went 
on  deck  again, — went  on  deck  to  find  that  the  morning 
had  dawned,  pale,  haggard,  and  tremulous,  after  the  ex- 
cesses of  the  night. 


3O  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 


CHAPTER  III. 

EXPLAINING    HOW    THIS    COLUMBUS    SETS    HIS    FOOT     AT     LAST 
UPON  THE  SHORES  OF  A  NEW  LAND. 

AS  day  broke,  Hartman  Venable  lay  down  in  his  state- 
room for  a  nap,  exhausted  almost  as  much  by  the 
agony  of  Irene  Buttolph  as  by  the  violence  of  the  wind  and 
the  toil  at  the  pumps.  Instead  of  a  nap  he  slept  the  deep 
sleep,  almost,  of  the  dead,  leaping  up  suddenly  out  of  it  to 
find,  with  surprise  and  shame,  that  during  his  slumber  it  was 
late  the  next  morning,  the  wind  still  blowing  as  furiously  as 
ever.  It  was  the  steward  whose  knock  aroused  him  for  the 
late  breakfast ;  and  the  military  manner  in  which  that  indi- 
vidual did  it,  waiting  at  table  afterwards  as  if  going  through 
the  drill,  was  singularly  re-assuring. 

"  We  are  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  fresh  again,"  was 
Gen.  Buttolph's  salutation  as  each  passenger  held  on  to 
the  table  with  one  hand,  and  managed  to  eat  with  the 
other.  There  was  still  greater  re-assurance  in  the  inertia  of 
the  portly  general,  to  say  nothing  of  the  glow  in  his  broad 
and  genial  face. 

"  They  are  both  asleep,"  he  said,  in  reply  to  a  question. 
"  Irene  was  worn  out  with  her  terrors,  and  Zeo  with  comfort- 
ing her.  I  hope  they  may  sleep  through  it  all."  And  the 
speaker  proceeded  to  inform  his  friend  that  such  storms 
always  lasted  three  days,  so  that  they  had  two  days  more  of 
it  yet  to  endure. 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  31 

"  That  is,"  Capt.  Chaffin,  who  had  joined  them,  explained, 
"if  the  Nautilus  holds  together;  and  that  is  impossible. 
As  the  ladies  are  asleep,  I  might  as  well  say  it,"  he  con- 
tinued :  "we  are  too  tough,  being  men,  to  care.  Yet  I  don't 
know,"  he  corrected  himself  in  a  mechanical  way,  after  a 
long  pause.  "  You  see,  this  old  shell  ought  to  have  gone  to 
flinders  the  moment  the  wind  struck  her.  She's  a  living 
miracle,  and  she  has  been  for  years  on  years.  When  a  mira- 
cle's on  hand,  no  man  can  tell  what'll  happen."  Having 
said  which,  he  became  grimly  silent. 

Young  Venable  found,  during  the  day,  that  the  captain  of 
the  boat,  the  engineers  and  firemen,  the  deck-hands  and 
steerage-passengers,  had  all  reached  the  same  conclusion, 
—  had  found,  in  fact,  considerable  consolation  in  the  very 
wonder  of  the  thing ;  the  comfort  therein  strengthening  as 
the  storm  howled  the  day  through,  pitching  and  tossing  the 
boat  about  upon  the  yeasty  waves.  Somehow,  in  virtue  of 
its  being  but  the  biggest  of  the  bubbles  thereupon,  it  would 
not  break;  and  so  another  night  at  the  pumps  came  and 
went.  When  the  next  day  came,  the  wonder  of  all  on  board 
had  deepened  into  a  superstition,  a  fanaticism.  The  pas- 
sengers had  crystallized,  so  to  speak,  into  a  dogmatic  sect  in 
regard  to  the  endurance  of  their  boat. 

"  Oh,  blow  away  and  be  hanged  !  "  Capt.  Chaffin  remarked 
contemptuously,  at  breakfast  that  day,  as  the  wind  shrieked 
overhead  in  a  louder  gust  than  usual.  "  That's  why,"  he 
added,  his  mouth  at  the  ear  of  Mr.  Venable,  seated  beside 
him,  "  they  call  a  ship  a  she.  A  boat  may  be  as  frail  as  — 
as  —  you  please,  and  yet  —  capable  of?  Things  a  he  can't 
even  begin  to  try  to  do  !  St.  Jerome's  my  fear." 

"  It  is  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  he  means,"  Miss  Zeo  told  Mr. 
Venable,  when,  the  captain  having  left  the  table,  he  repeated 
the  remark  to  her ;  and  again  her  sister  went  off  into  a  fit 
of  laughter,  only  less  violent,  by  reason  of  weariness,  than 
on  the  occasion  before. 


32  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"  We  sleep  almost  all  the  time,"  she  informed  Mr.  Vena- 
ble  more  than  once ;  "  and  when  I'm  not  in  an  agony  of 
fear,  I'm  in  a  gale  of  fun.  Zeo  is  kept  busy  being  a  mother 
to  me,  as  she  always  was,  dear  little  body."  But  this  phrase 
of  endearment  did  not  seem  at  all  applicable  to  the  lady 
spoken  of.  She  was  seated  at  the  table,  her  hands  lying 
clasped  together  before  her  upon  it ;  and  although  she  lifted 
her  head,  and  smiled,  there  was  that  in  her  which-  reminded 
him  of  the  repose  of  a  lioness.  As  he  blushed  to  think  such 
a  thing  of  so  modest  a  girl,  her  older  sister  exclaimed  in  con- 
tinuation of  her  lively  talk,  "  See,  sir,  if  I'm  not  the  first  to 
wake  you  to-morrow." 

And  she  was.  Before  the  sun  rose  on  that  Sunday  morn- 
ing, she  was  beating  upon  Mr.  Venable's  door,  and  calling, 
"  St.  Jerome,  St.  Jerome  !  O  Mr.  Venable,  come  and  see  !  " 

Dressing  himself  as  swiftly  as  he  could,  he  hastened  on 
deck  to  find  the  old  world  gone  forever,  and  the  new  world 
arrived.  The  last  three  days  lay  behind  him  like  three 
years,  rather,  of  trouble,  a  blessedness  in  its  very  darkness 
and  storm  now  that  it  was  gone.  For  here  was  a  new  world 
indeed.  He  could  not  speak  at  first,  by  reason  of  gladness. 
The  very  atmosphere  seemed  electric  with  new  life. 

"  Oh  !  is  it  not  glorious?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Look  !  there 
is  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  so  blue  and  deep.  And  the  sea, 
too.  It  lies,  see,  as  blue  and  calm  and  pure  as  the  sky, 
with  not  a  ripple.  The  air  is  as  gentle  as  the  breath  of  a 
babe.  Don't  you  see  that  long  line  of  sand  off  to  the  right, 
and  the  houses  and  steeples,  barely  above  the  level  of  the 
water?  That  is  St.  Jerome.  And,  oh  !  the  flowers  there, 
and  the  fig-trees,  and  the  glorious  drives,  and  such  nice 
people,  not  a  bit  like  those  anywhere  else  in  the  world. 
—  You  dear  thing  !  "  and  in  her  joyousness  the  young  lady 
startled  her  companion  in  the  instant  of  her  ejaculation, 
by  putting  her  arms  around  the  mast  by  which  they  were 
standing,  and  giving  it  a  kiss  as  well  as  a  hug.  "  Won't 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  33 

I  do  instead?"  was  what  her  companion  asked  her;  but 
by  no  means  aloud.  That  was  one  of  the  ten  thousand 
things  which  he  had  habitually  to  keep  himself  from  saying. 
"  You  dear,  good  old  boat,  to  bring  us  so  safely,"  she  said, 
her  arms  still  about  the  mast,  "when  all  the  people  were 
abusing  you  so,  calling  you  old  !  —  Draw  in  the  delicious  air 
as  I  do,  Mr.  Venable;"  and  she  inhaled  with  parted  lips 
the  fresh  breeze,  her  bosom  rising,  her  cheek  glowing,  her 
eyes  radiant  with  joy.  "  That  is  the  way  it  will  be  when  I 
get  to  heaven,"  she  said.  "  I  will  be  so  glad  to  be  done 
with  such  a  world  !  It  isn't  the  storms  I  object  to  at  all. 
I  rather  like  a  good  rousing  fuss  of  any  kind,  especially 
when  it  is  over.  What  I  hate  is  the  everlasting  propriety. 
One  dare  not  do  or  say  any  thing  now,  but  it  is,  '  O  Irene, 
don't ! '  and  '  O  Irene,  hush  ! '  If  I  let  myself  go  for  one 
little  moment,  there  are  fifty  people  to  hold  up  their  hands 
with  horror,  and  say,  '  O  Irene  !  are  you  not  ashamed  of 
yourself? '  I  hate  such  a  world.  I  want  to  be  where  a 
girl  can  be  as  full  of  fun,  and  as  free,  as  she  feels  like.  I 
want  to  go  where  Miss  Aurelia  Jones  will  never  shake  her 
curls  at  me  again  forever.  That's  my  idea  of  heaven,"  she 
added  with  enthusiasm :  "  to  be  and  to  do  and  to  say,  for 
ever  and  evermore,  amen,  exactly  what  I  please.  I  am  so 
glad  we  are  done  with  school !  St.  Jerome's  like  heaven  in 
that :  people  don't  care  a  cent  — 

"And  that,  I  suppose,"  her  companion  said,  pointing  to  a 
pilot-yacht  under  full  sail  for  them,  "  is  like  "  — 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  she  interrupted ;  "  is  like  an 
angel  —  see  its  white  sails  !  sent  out  from  heaven  to  show  a 
soul  just  arriving  the  way.  I  am  so  glad,  I  believe  I  could 
fly  !  "  And  the  girl  stretched  out  her  arms,  her  hair  falling 
back  from  her  uplifted  head,  such  high  spirits  in  her  tones, 
her  complexion  flushed  so  with  light,  that,  turning  to  look 
at  Mr.  Venable,  she  could  not  but  color  at  the  smile  in  his 
face. 


34  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"And  here  is  papa,  and  Zeo.  Was  ever  any  thing  so 
beautiful?"  she  said,  as  the  general  and  her  sister  joined 
them,  and  stood  looking  in  silence  upon  the  scene.  "See," 
she  continued,  "  yonder  is  the  sun,  just  rising  out  of  the 
ocean.  It  looks  like  a  great  bubble  of  gold.  Did  you  ever 
see  it  appear  so  clean  and  sweet,  as  if  it  had  been  scrubbed 
and  scoured  by  the  wind  and  the  water?  "  And  as  she  gave 
words  to  her  eagerness,  her  younger  sister  stood  beside  her 
very  happy,  and  yet  dark  and  silent,  and  even  dull  in  com- 
parison, not  nearly  as  tall  as  the  other,  and  much  less  as 
radiant  ;  miniature  likeness,  Mr.  Venable  said  to  himself,  of 
her  father,  by  whose  side  she  stood. 

"Why  is  it?"  he  asked  of  himself.  "Why  do  I  admire 
her  so  much  the  most?" 

Meanwhile  the  pilot  had  reached  them,  and  had  climbed 
up  the  side,  looking,  as  he  did  so,  closely  and  inquiringly 
at  the  hull  and  deck  and  spars  of  the  vessel.  He  fastened 
his  eyes  for  a  moment  upon  each  person  he  saw,  in  the  same 
way. 

"And  she  pulled  through  it?"  he  demanded  of  the  cap- 
tain of  the  boat,  not  shaking  hands  as  Mr.  Venable  had 
expected,  but  offering  the  other  instead,  and  unasked,  his 
plug  of  tobacco  accompanied  by  his  jack-knife. 

The  captain  nodded  his  head  as  he  took  the  plug,  cut  off 
a  quid  therefrom,  and  put  it  slowly  and  with  a  meditative 
manner  in  his  mouth,'  a  something  too  great  for  words  in  his 
way  of  doing  it. 

"And  St.  Jerome  sailed  it  out  too,"  he  said  at  last. 

"You  bet,"  the  pilot  replied.  "Our  chances  and  yours 
were  just  even.  Six  of  one,  half  a  dozen  of  the  other." 

"  You  may  tell  me  any  sea-serpent  story  you  please,  now," 
Capt.  Chaffin,  who  had  joined  the  other  two  men,  and  taken 
his  cut  at  the  plug,  remarked.  "  Don't  stop  at  trifles  :  string 
his  tail  out  six  miles,  if  you  want  to,  —  six  hundred,  for  that 
matter.  I'm  your  man ;  yes,  sir,  go  ahead  :  I  am  ready  for 
any  thing." 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  35 

But  the  firemen  had  thrown  into  the  furnaces  the  last 
shovels  of  coal  left  in  the  bunks,  and  were  engaged  in  pitch- 
ing in  the  materials  of  the  bunks  themselves  to  add  to  the 
smoke  and  speed,  and  grandeur  in  general,  of  their  arrival. 
The  vessel  did  not  steam  straight  for  the  city,  which  had 
now  risen  entirely  above  the  water,  as  Mr.  Venable  had 
vainly  hoped.  Making  a  sweep  completely  around  it,  —  the 
city  being  upon  the  side  of  the  island  looking  toward  the 
main  land,  —  the  boat  reached  the  landing  as  rapidly  as  its 
disabled  condition  would  allow.  As  they  drew  near  he 
could  not  but  agree  with  the  rapture  of  Irene  Buttolph,  com- 
ing and  going  between  her  father  and  sister  and  himself. 

"  Is  it  not  the  most  beautiful  picture  in  the  world  ?  All 
the  houses  near  the  edge  of  the  island  are  stone  and  brick, 
you  see,"  she  explained ;  "  they  look  so  strong  along  the 
side  of  the  sea,  —  like  bulwarks,  you  know.  They  are  the 
warehouses,  cotton- presses,  and  stores.  Behind  them  are 
the  long,  broad  streets  of  houses  where  the  people  live. 
See,  every  house  is  as  white  as  white  can  be,  except  the 
blinds  of  the  windows  and  verandas,  and  they  are  as  green 
as  the  trees.  You  can't  see  half  the  city,  it's  all  buried  so 
in  oleanders,  orange-trees,  and  lemons.  Oh,  isn't  it  lovely  ! 
I  was  born  there,  you  know." 

"It  may  be  all  owing,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  "to  the  storm 
we  have  been  through,  the  danger  and  the  darkness ;  and 
I  have  had  years  back  of  that,  of  pretty  dark  times  and  hard 
work.  Perhaps  it  is  this  clear  sky  and  brilliant  light.  The 
air  is  so  crisp  and  fresh  too.  It  may  be  because  I  am 
twenty-one  years  old  to-day ;  it  is  Sunday,  also,  and  that  may 
be  one  reason.  Whatever  it  is,"  he  added,  turning  to  the 
young  girl,  "  this  is  by  far  the  most  glorious  morning  I  ever 
knew.  I'm  entering  on  a  new  world ;  and  I  feel  so  fresh 
and  strong  !  I  will  remember  this  day  as  long  as  I  live  :  it 
is  the  first  day  of  a  new  year,  and  I  feel  sure  it  will  be  a 
year  worth  living." 


36  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

He  was  a  comely  young  fellow,  really  as  full  of  enthusi- 
asm as  the  lady  to  whom  he  spoke,  save  that  he  had  long 
ago  deepened  himself,  so  to  speak,  by  severe  study  and 
small  companionship  with  others,  in  such  a  degree  as  to  hold 
within  himself,  and  without  too  much  overflow,  all  excess  of 
feeling. 

As  they  drew  near,  their  vessel  at  least,  to  the  landing,  the 
bold  front  of  the  city  rose  higher  and  higher,  and  then  tow- 
ered protectingly  above  them.  Upon  the  wharf  there  had 
gathered  a  large  crowd  of  men  and  boys.  They  stood 
gazing  at  the  boat  as  it  approached,  with  silent  but  intense 
interest.  Mr.  Venable  had  observed  among  the  throng  a  par- 
ticularly tall  and  vigorous  individual,  dressed  in  black  broad- 
cloth as  if  for  church.  He  was  standing  up  on  top  of  one 
of  the  piles  which  projected  above  the  edge  of  the  wharf. 

"Yonder  is  Mr.  Quatty,  Zeo,"  said  Gen.  Buttolph,  with 
placid  amusement.  "  You  certainly  remember  Mr.  Quatty. 
That  is  the  one  on  the  top  of  the  post,  Mr.  Venable,"  he 
continued.  "  He  is  one  of  our  pillars.  You  will  find  him 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  men,"  he  added,  with  a  smile 
upon  his  face  which  his  friend  could  not  fully  understand. 

"  Fellow-citizens,"  the  person  alluded  to  called  out  at 
this  moment,  assuming,  as  he  took  off  his  hat,  the  attitude 
and  the  oratorical  tone  of  a  public  speaker,  "this  is  the 
holy  sabbath  day.  To  our  unspeakable  astonishment  the 
old  Nautilus  has  survived  once  more.  In  view  of  its 
being  Sunday,  and  of  this  old  Lazarus  coming  up  again 
from  a  briny  sepulchre,  I  wish,  before  proposing  a  few 
cheers,  to  make  some  appropriate  remarks.  Brethren  —  I 
mean  fellow-citizens  and  brethren  —  ahem  !  When  we 
consider"  —  with  a  gesture.  But,  on  the  instant,  a  dozen 
voices  called  out,  "  Three  cheers  !  Yes,  three  cheers  !  " 
There  was  much  movement  and  laughter.  "  In  one  mo- 
ment, brethren  —  I  mean  fellow-citizens,"  Mr.  Quatty  con- 
tinued, motioning  eagerly,  and  by  a  suppressing  movement 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  37 

of  both  his  palms  extended  over  their  heads,  for  the  crowd 
to  be  still.  "  I  wish  to  offer  a  few  remarks.  When  we  re- 
flect"—  But  the  voice  of  the  speaker  was  drowned  in 
laughter  and  calls  for  cheers,  a  number  of  persons  crying 
out,  "  Hold  your  horses,  Quatty  !  "  and  the  three  cheers 
were  given  by  the  crowd  with  a  will,  the  orator  being  ig- 
nominiously  hustled  from  his  perch  at  the  moment  by  the 
striking  of  the  boat  against  the  landing,  many  jumping  on 
and  off  long  before  the  vessel  was  secured  to  the  wharf 
or  the  gangways  laid.  In  the  confusion  of  the  in-rushing  and 
out-going  crowds,  Gen.  Buttolph  laid  his  cordial  grasp  upon 
his  friend. 

"  Remember,"  he  said,  "  you  go  with  us.  But  I  wonder 
where  the  carriage  is ;  "  and  he  leaned  over  the  side  of  the 
upper  deck,  looking  up  and  down  the  streets  running  along- 
side the  wharf. 

"  O  papa  !  "  exclaimed  his  eldest  daughter,  in  a  fever  of 
excitement,  "  yonder  is  old  Plenty  and  young  Plenty,  just 
the  same,  and  I  have  not  seen  them  for  two  years ;  and  see, 
Grit  is  with  them.  Grit !  "  she  called,  "  Clear  Grit ! '»  but  then 
yielded  to  her  sister's  silencing  hand.  By  this  time  a  very 
old,  tall,  and  white-headed  negro  had  followed  a  stout,  thick- 
set man  many  shades  blacker,  who  had  forced  his  way  to  the 
edge  of  the  landing  below. 

"Well,  boys,  where's  the  carriage?  "  cried  the  general. 

"You  hush.  Shet  your  mouth,"  the  older  of  the  two  men 
said,  laying  his  long  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  other. 
"  Massa  General's  talkin '  to  me.  — Yes,  massa.  No  kerrige, 
massa.  Kerrige-house  swept  away.  Hain't  had  time  to 
hunt  for  the  kerrige  yet.  Somewhere  in  de  prairie." 

"  That's  a  fact,"  his  master  said  with  emphasis.  "  I  had 
forgotten.  Is  the  house  left,  Plenty  ?  " 

"Shet  up.  Lemme  talk,"  the  old  man  replied.  "Yes, 
Massa  Harry,  but  wet,  mighty  wet,"  with  an  ominous  shake 
of  his  venerable  head. 


38  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"  Oh,  well !  "  said  Gen.  Buttolph,  amid  the  exclamations  of 
Irene,  "  never  mind.  Get  one  of  Mr.  Quatty's  hacks.  Oh, 
here  is  Mr.  Quatty  !  —  How  are  you,  Mr.  Quatty  ?  These 
are  my  daughters,  from  school.  This  is  Mr.  Venable.  Can 
you  let  us  have  a  hack?"  and  the  young  gentleman  last 
named  found  his  hand  grasped,  and  heartily,  by  the  orator 
of  the  moment  before.  He  was  a  large-limbed  man,  tough 
and  vigorous.  His  body  seemed  to  be  more  loosely  framed 
than  is  usual ;  the  arms  being  particularly  long,  with  large 
and  sinewy  hands  thereto.  His  face,  which  was  thoroughly 
burned  and  roughened  by  the  sun  and  rain  and  wind 
of  forty  years,  was  one  which  the  other  thought  he  could 
read  at  once.  No  traces  of  books,  or  society,  or  culture  of 
any  kind,  there ;  but,  except  for  a  restlessness  of  eyes  and 
manner,  a  kind,  shrewd,  and  honest  face.  On  the  instant  he 
took  a  liking  to  him. 

"  We  are  going  to  get  well  acquainted,  sir,"  Mr.  Quatty 
said,  keeping  the  hand  of  the  other  in  his  own. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  Gen.  Buttolph  said,  with  a  sort 
of  comic- emphasis ;  "  but  you  must  get  us  home  now,  Mr. 
Quatty." 

And  an  amazing  ride  it  was,  to  the  stranger  at  least,  after 
the  carriage  had  got  behind  the  row  of  substantial  ware- 
houses which  lined  the  wharves.  "  It's  like  the  toy  town  of  a 
child,  all  scattered  about,"  Irene  said,  as  they  drove  through 
the  broad  streets  of  sand  white  and  wet.  "Yonder  is 
another  house  washed  into  the  centre  of  our  way.  Oh,  look  ! 
yonder  is  a  sloop  lying  right  in  front  of  our  church,  the 
mast  almost  as  tall  as  the  steeple  !  How  can  we  ever  get  in 
on  next  Sunday?"  And  so  all  the  way.  Mr.  Quatty  drove 
them  himself,  and,  from  his  seat  on  the  box  of  the  open 
carriage,  described  the  ravages  of  the  tempest  with  great 
pride.  Wind  and  sea  had  invaded  the  city,  washing  the 
streets  and  gardens  into  gullies  and  banks,  tearing  up  the 
trees,  upsetting  the  smaller  houses,  floating  the  larger  far 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  39 

away,  in  many  cases,  from  their  foundations;  yawls  and 
sailing-boats  lay -high  and  dry  upon  front  yards.  It  was  the 
very  chaos  of  a  wrecked  city.  Grit,  the  brother  to  whom 
Irene  had  so  often  referred,  a  plump  boy  of  eight  or  ten,  and 
who  had  been  devoured  with  kisses  by  her,  pointed  out  the 
various  disasters  as  they  rode  along.  Yet  over  and  under 
and  through  it  all  was  the  sparkling  air  and  the  brilliant  day. 
Evidently  it  was  an  atmosphere  which  was  as  much  the 
native  element,  in  all  its  brightness,  of  the  people,  as  the  sea 
is  of  its  fish.  As  the  hacks  drove  laboriously  along,  backing 
and  turning,  winding  in  and  out,  and  at  times  over  the 
scattered  ruins  of  houses  and  fences,  the  inhabitants  seemed 
to  be  out  in  Sunday  attire,  as  for  a  holiday.  Not  merely 
men  and  women  of  the  seafaring  classes :  everywhere,  as 
they  drove  with  many  a  tortuous  winding,  there  were  gentle- 
men and  ladies  on  foot,  or  in  buggies,  and  in  open  convey- 
ances of  all  kinds,  with  children  swarming  around,  —  all 
curious  to  see  what  the  storm  had  done.  The  multitude 
were  climbing  over  the  drift,  were  clustered  in  groups  about 
some  particularly  ridiculous  upheaval :  on  the  face  of  all, 
the  same  air  of  hilarity.  Mr.  Venable,  looking  up  at  the 
sound  of  a  bleating,  laughed  to  see  a  ram  with  patriarchal 
horns  summoning  assistance  from  the  observatory  of  a  tall 
house  into  which  it  had  managed  to  climb.  The  next 
moment  Mr.  Quatty,  from  his  seat,  called  their  attention  to 
a  cow  which  stood  calmly  chewing  its  cud,  and  gazing  upon 
the  passing  crowds,  its  motherly  face  thrust  through  the 
window  of  a  handsome  residence  in  which  it  had  taken 
refuge.  As  their  carriage  turned  in  and  out  among  the 
wrecks,  there  would  come,  now  from  down  one  street  or 
alley,  and  then  up  from  another,  a  peal  of  laughter  at  some- 
thing very  amusing  which  had  just  been  observed. 

"  No  lives  have  been  lost,  that  I  have  heard  of,"  Mr. 
Quatty  informed  them  as  they  rolled  along.  "  They  are  all 
frame  houses,  you  see,  and  it  will  not  get  up  into  millions  — 


4O  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

the  damage.  I  know  it  is  not  the  first  storm  of  the  sort  we 
have  had  here  in  St.  Jerome ;  but  then,  as  likely  as  not,  it 
will  never  happen  again,  you  know." 

It  was  thus  Mr.  Venable  easily  fell,  that  bright  Sunday,  into 
the  mood  of  Miss  Irene  Buttolph.  And  she  seemed  to 
express  but  more  volubly  what  appeared  to  be  the  opinion 
of  all;  which  was,  that,  upon  the  whole,  the  storm  and 
overflow  was  one  of  the  best  practical  jokes  in  the  world. 

The  most  venerable  clergyman  could  not  have  been  more 
guarded  as  to  his  outer  bearing  than  was  this  new-comer. 
In  comparison  with  the  tropic  region  into  which  he  had 
been  so  suddenly  introduced,  he  was  as  coldly  correct  as 
Iceland ;  but,  like  Iceland,  he  hid  under  the  snows  of  his 
propriety  a  good  deal  that  was  ready  to  break  out. 

"  I  do  truly  and  sincerely  prefer  my  work  to  every  thing 
else,"  he  reasoned  with  himself,  after  he  had  been  shown  to 
his  room  at  Gen.  Buttolph's  house :  "  why  is  it,  then,  that, 
from  before  my  arriving  here,  I  have  been  thrown  with  one 
who  threatens  to  divert  my  mind  from  it?  If  this  is  the 
way  I  am  to  begin,  I  had  better  give  up  at  once,  and  go 
back  to  my  old  cloisters.  Please  Heaven,  I  will  try  and 
absorb  myself  in  my  new  duties  so  thoroughly  as  to  forget 
every  thing  else." 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  4! 


CHAPTER  IV. 

• 

MR.  VENABLE  BEGINS  TO  KNOW  THE  INHABITANTS  OF  ST.   JEROME, 
AND   THEY   TO    KNOW   HIM. 

DR.  BURROWS,  the  pastor  of  the  church  of  St.  Jerome, 
had  left  under  peculiar  circumstances,  to  be  explained 
by  and  by.  At  the  suggestion  of  Miss  Aurelia  Jones,  the 
wealthiest  as  well  as  the  most  active,  certainly  the  most 
devoted,  member  of  the  church,  the  officers  thereof  had 
written,  a  few  weeks  before  our  story  opens,  to  the  institution 
at  which  young  men  were  trained  for  the  ministry.  Commo- 
dore Thomas  William  Grandheur,  long  superintendent  of 
the  sabbath  school,  had  opposed  such  a  plan  from  the  in- 
stant of  its  suggestion  by  Miss  Aurelia.  But  there  was  a 
certain  fervor  in  the  lady  which  gave  her  an  influence  be- 
yond that  of  the  commodore  himself.  The  application  was 
made,  that  gentleman  protesting  with  all  the  emphasis  of 
his  gold-headed  cane,  and  voice ;  and  Mr.  Venable  was  the 
result.  Although  he  had  arrived  on  Sunday,  as  recorded,  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  preach.  When  he  had  stepped 
ashore,  it  was  cautiously,  and  as  if  he  had  expected  the  island 
to  tilt  under  him ;  and  it  was  many  days  before  he  was  rid  of 
the  roll  and  lurch  and  pitch  of  the  Nautilus,  which  lingered 
like  a  physical  memory  of  his  trip.  The  membership  also 
were  too  busy  collecting  their  scattered  fences,  and,  in  some 
cases,  houses,  to  think  of  any  thing  else.  Early  on  Monday 
morning  Gen.  Buttolph  took  his  guest  to  the  spot  to  see  the 


42  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

vessel  hauled  away  which  had  been  washed  up  in  front  of 
the  church.  It  was  an  easy  thing  to  do  at  last ;  and  the  same 
process  was  being  at  the  same  hour,  and  for  weeks  after, 
applied  to  boats  beached,  and  houses  washed  from  their 
foundations,  over  the  whole  city.  Logs  were  laid  under,  and 
continually  renewed  in  front  as  they  were  done  with  in  the 
rear  of  the  moving  mass,  the  whole  island  being  a  dead 
level.  Twelve  yoke  of  oxen  it  took  to  move  the  vessel  from 
the  church ;  the  oxen  headed,  as  they  always  are  in  such 
emergencies,  by  a  mule  of  unusual  size  and  solemn  aspect. 
The  attention  of  Mr.  Venable  was  arrested  by  the  amount 
of  profanity  applied,  —  one  driver  to  each  yoke  of  oxen,  and 
a  commander-in-chief  in  charge  of  the  mule.  Beginning 
with  the  driver  of  the  yoke  next  to  the  vessel,  the  blasphe- 
my increased  in  volume  and  violence  with  each  teamster  in 
order,  until  it  culminated  through  the  lips  of  its  master,  and 
broke  in  thunder  upon  the  head  of  the  mule  with  a  vehe- 
mence of  wickedness  the  hearer  had  never  before  imagined. 
Such  suggestions  in  reference  to  its  eternal  hereafter  were 
urged  upon  the  animal,  that  it  would  have  been  rock  rather 
than  mule  not  to  have  heeded  them.  With  head  moving  up 
and  down,  as  it  tugged  steadily  at  its  load,  its  long  ears  were 
in  perpetual  motion,  as  if  it  said,  "  Oh,  yes  !  certainly ;  yes, 
yes,  yes  :  I  understand."  As  Gen.  Buttolph's  guest  meditated 
on  the  possible  recoil  upon  the  swearers  of  such  verbal  vio- 
lence, the  vessel  moved  off,  literally  cursed  away  inch  by  inch, 
driven  seaward  by  a  gale  of  at  least  intenser  moral  power 
than  that  which  had  lodged  it  there.  And  the  young  man 
was  struck,  too,  by  the  joyous  indifference  on  the  part  of  his 
host  to  the  profanity.  It  was  in  keeping  with  his  placid 
unconcern  during  the  storm  at  sea.  Not  unconcern :  the 
same  childlike  recklessness  was  observed  by  the  new-comer 
every  moment  and  in  all  he  met,  —  a  recklessness  more  or 
less  hilarious  as  to  whatever  might  befall. 

The  richer  people  of  St.  Jerome  seemed  to  be  least  in- 


A  YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  43 

jured  by  the  overflow;  their  houses  being  generally  upon 
higher  points  in  the  city,  and  of  more  substantial  materials, 
than  the  small  frame  buildings  of  the  poorer  of  the  popula- 
tion,—  buildings  all  porch  and  window  and  green  blinds, 
and  the  only  ceiling  and  lath  and  plaster  of  which  was  can- 
vas, —  canvas  well  stretched  and  whitewashed.  Things  were 
being  rapidly  balanced,  too,  before  the  storm  was  well  ended, 
by  negroes  loaned,  and  money  cheerfully  given,  on  the  part 
of  the  wealthier  citizens.  There  was  a  breezy,  out-of-door, 
picnic  gladness  and  generosity  and  genial  fellow-feeling,  in  it 
all,  which  was,  to  the  new  arrival,  in  delightful  contrast  to  the 
rigors  of  the  region  from  which  he  had  just  departed.  As 
if  it  had  all  been  a  mere  mistake  of  wind  and  sea,  to  be 
borne  with  and  laughed  at,  fences  and  houses  were  being 
replaced,  streets  regraded,  turf  and  trees  replanted, — the 
whole  city  set  to  rights  again.  St.  Jerome  was  barely  above 
the  level  of  the  sea  surrounding  it  on  all  sides ;  and  young 
Venable  could  not  rid  himself  of  the  idea  that  in  landing 
he  had  but  stepped  from  the  Nautilus  upon  the  deck  of 
a  vessel  vastly  larger,  but  fully  as  frail  and  as  much  exposed 
to  the  perils  of  wind  and  water,  yet  all  the  better  for  that. 
Very  soon  the  big  ship  would  be  trimmed,  the  sails  set  again, 
and  all  hands  confident  of  a  prosperous  voyage  henceforth. 
There  was  something  to  him,  fresh  from  scholastic  shades, 
in  the  sailor-like  boyishness  of  the  people,  which  was  more 
attractive  than  the  transparent  air,  and  sparkling  blue  of  sea 
and  sky,  and  vivid  hues  of  grass  and  flowers ;  a  something 
in  every  person  he  met,  in  strict  sympathy  and  keeping  with 
nature,  which  seemed  to  be  so  wide  open  to  him  all  around, 
above  too,  and  below. 

Commodore  Thomas  William  Grandheur  excepted.  Mr. 
Venable  speedily  acknowledged  that.  On  the  Monday  after- 
noon following  upon  his  arrival,  the  commodore  called. 
Gen.  Buttolph's  household  were  seated  upon  the  veranda. 
From  the  moment  he  slowly  ascended  the  steps,  the  heart 


44  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

• 

of  the  minister  sank  within  him.  The  commodore  was 
a  large  man  of  commanding  presence,  who  had  not  been 
so  long  in  the  navy  and  in  supreme  command  of  men 
for  nothing.  The  instant  he  stepped  as  upon  the  quarter- 
deck of  the  general's  veranda,  the  new-comer  felt  what  a 
green  hand  he  was  in  such  a  presence.  The  commodore 
had  the  same  feeling  evidently.  Young  Venable  saw  it  in 
the  amplitude  of  the  white  vest  of  this  his  superior  officer, 
in  the  exuberance  of  the  gold  chain  across  his  breast,  in  the 
white  hair,  heavy  moustache,  and  authoritative  brow,  espe- 
cially in  the  manner  of  the  man,  as  well  as  in  his  gold- 
headed  cane  with  which,  as  with  the  mace  of  office,  he  took 
Mr.  Venable  in  charge. 

There  was  silence  when  the  commodore,  after  saluting  all 
present,  had  taken  his  seat.  Then  leaning  his  hands,  one 
placed  on  the  other,  upon  the  top  of  his  cane,  which  was 
between  his  knees,  he  proceeded  to  examine  the  new  recruit. 
Where  had  he  been  born?  When?  What  were  his  views 
upon  this  mode  of  conducting  worship,  and  that  ?  How  in 
reference  to  the  sabbath  school?  also  the  prayer-meeting? 
pastoral  visitation  likewise?  Not  that  there  was  any  thing 
offensive  in  the  words,  nor  in  the  manner,  except  that  the 
speaker  had  long  been  commodore,  in  his  own  estimation, 
of  the  First  Church,  and  intended  remaining  so.  His 
assumption  aroused  within  the  other  a  counter  assumption. 
With  his  eye  full  in  his,  the  young  man  replied  to  the  ques- 
tions respectfully,  as  to  one  so  much  older,  but  in  an  inde- 
pendent as  well  as  off-hand  way,  which,  he  smiled  to  himself 
to  think,  he  had  caught  already,  as  by  infection,  from  the 
people  about  him. 

"  Our  church,  sir,"  the  commodore  said  at  last,  "  is  the 
First  Church  of  St.  Jerome,  —  in  every  sense  the  First 
Church." 

He  was  a  noble-looking  old  soul ;  his  bronze  complexion 
well  contrasted  with  moustache  and  hair  and  overhanging 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  -      45 

eyebrows,  which  were  very  white.  There  was  authority  in 
the  "  ahem  "  with  which  he  began  every  new  remark.  Yet 
the  young  man  had  an  intuition  from  the  first  that  his  visitor 
lacked  substance  to  his  size.  He  was  ashamed  to  feel  that 
the  commodore  reminded  him  of  a  big  bass-drum,  —  he 
could  not  get  rid  of  an  idea  of  hollowness.  In  spite  of 
himself,  the  idea  grew,  the  longer  his  visitor  talked. 

At  last  there  was  the  dull  roll  of  wheels  in  the  sandy 
street.  In  the  instant  of  the  utterance  of  an  exclamation 
by  Irene,  the  visitor  arose.  His  face  was  from  the  street ; 
but  it  was  evident  he  had  an  instinct  as  to  who  was  coming, 
and  wished  to  avoid  a  meeting.  There  was  almost  a  sacri- 
fice of  dignity  in  the  abruptness  of  his  leave-taking,  as,  after 
bidding  all  adieu,  and  lifting  his  hat  to  a  lady  ascending  the 
steps,  he  took  his  departure. 

Mr.  Venable  bowed  to  her  as  he  did  so,  regarding  her 
with  keen  interest.  She  was  plainly  dressed,  had  very  black 
hair  and  eyes,  a  fresh-colored  and  eager  face,  and  a  man- 
ner as  full  of  emotion  as  that  of  the  visitor  before  her  had 
been  cold  and  magisterial.  She  greeted  the  young  man  with 
an  effusion  which  brought  the  color  to  his  cheeks. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  are  come,  Mr.  Venable  !  "  she  said  at 
last,  in  continuance  of  a  good  deal  of  welcome  going  before, 
"  and  out  of  a  terrible  tempest  too.  And  we,  too,  are  just 
out  of  a  storm, : — a  storm  following,  as  far  as  the  First 
Church  is  concerned,  upon  a  calm  which  was  worse  still. 
How  plainly  Providence  was  preparing  us  for  each  other  ! 
Do  you  know,  Mr.  Venable,  it  was  I  who  insisted  upon  your 
being  sent  for  ?  Miss  Aurelia  Jones,  —  I  dare  say  they  have 
told  you  about  me.  Not  that  I  can  do  any  thing.  I  am 
only  a  woman,  —  a  very  weak  and  cold-hearted  woman,  I 
fear.  But  I  do  desire  to  do  all  I  can."  And  she  was  so 
childlike  and  overflowing,  that  Mr.  Venable  was  charmed ; 
the  more  so,  the  longer  she  talked.  She  had  little  to  say  to 
Gen.  Buttolph,  or  even  to  his  daughters  just  returned  after 
years  of  absence,  in  her  eagerness  about  the  church. 


46  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

"  I  know,"  she  finally  added  after  quite  a  long  visit,  "  that 
it  is  often  worse  than  nothing ;  yet  we  do  have  the  youth, 
the  wealth,  the  fashion  and  culture  and  intellect,  of  St.  Je- 
rome, in  our  society.  Yours  is  a  serious  charge,  Mr.  Vena- 
ble ;  but  you  will  have,"  she  continued,  with  her  heart 
in  her  eyes,  "  earnest,  praying,  confidential,  devoted  friends. 
I  will  not  make  a  long  call  now,"  she  added :  "  we  will 
see  a  good  deal  of  each  other,  I  assure  you.  —  And  you 
are  as  grave  as  ever,  Zeo,"  she  said,  turning  to  the  sis- 
ters. "You,  I  am  afraid,  Irene,  are  as  full  of  your  mis- 
chief. How  you  are  both  grown  !  You  must  take  classes  in 
the  Sunday  school.  The  commodore  is  a  good,  good  man. 
But  oh,  me  !  me!  "  with  a  laugh  and  a  shrug  of  her  shoul- 
ders. "  Good-by ;  "  and  she  shook  hands  cordially  with  all 
as  she  departed.  "  I  have  a  thousand  things  to  talk  over 
with  you,"  she  said  to  Mr.  Venable  after  he  had  helped  her 
into  her  carriage  at  the  gate.  "  We  must  establish  a  mission- 
school  out  near  Mr.  Parson's  place.  He  will  be  glad  to 
manage  it  as  he  does  his  terraqueous  machine.  Have  you 
seen  it  yet?  He  has  dozens  of  inventions,  and  he  is  the 
most  wonderful  of  them  all  himself.  Then  we  should  have 
the  market-house  for  a  Bethel.  I  have  already  worked  a 
magnificent  flag  of  silk,  a  white  cross  on  a  blue  ground. 
Capt.  Chaffin  would  help  in  that.  Have  you  seen  Mrs. 
Chafnngsby  yet  ?  Be  on  your  guard,  Mr.  Venable  :  it  is 
sometimes  wicked  to  laugh.  Oh,  if  it  please  Heaven  !  "  she 
said  with  fervor,  holding  his  hand,  and  her  eyes  moistening, 
"we  may  have  a  blessing  on  our  church.  It  was  such  a 
pity  about  Dr.  Burrows,  —  such  a  pity .' "  And  it  was  after  a 
deal  of  further  conversation  on  her  part,  that  the  lady  was 
driven  off. 

Mr.  Venable  could  not  help,  on  his  return  to  the  veranda 
on  which  the  family  were  seated,  remarking  on  the  impres- 
sion Miss  Aurelia  Jones  had  made  upon  him.  He  refrained, 
however,  from  acknowledging  even  to  himself  a  vague  un- 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  47 

easiness  in  regard  to  her.  There  was  a  fervor  which  was 
fever ;  a  something  of  strain  too  great  to  be  either  natural 
or  lasting. 

"  She  is  the  life  and  soul  of  our  church,"  Gen.  Buttolph 
said.  "  You  see  what  a  handsome  lady  she  is.  They  say 
she  is  forty;  but  she  has  such  a  fresh  color,  and  is  so 
warm-hearted,  that  she  does  not  seem  to  be  thirty.  She  is 
rich,  and  is  exceedingly  active  in  church  matters.  I  wish 
she  and  Commodore  Grandheur  agreed  better.  He  is  our 
superintendent,  but  she  is  vastly  better  fitted  for  it.  Her  in- 
fant class  is  well  worth  seeing." 

"  She  is  so  far  beyond  me,"  Irene  Buttolph  had  impa- 
tiently waited  till  now  to  say,  "  that  I  am  as  still  as  a  mouse 
when  I  am  with  her:  I  am  as  cold  then  and  wicked  as 
a  lump  of  ice ;  she  is  so  ardent  and  loving  and  good.  Zeo 
thinks  the  world  of  her." 

"  It  is  two  years  since  we  saw  her  last,"  her  sister  said, 
after  a  little  while.  She  looked  up  from  her  embroidery  as 
she  said  it,  for  she  always  had  some  work  in  hand ;  Irene 
being  too  eager  with  eyes  and  tongue,  indulging  in  too  much 
movement  of  her  hands  in  company,  to  lend  herself  steadily 
to  any  thing  else.  ""Miss  Aurelia  was  very  kind  indeed  when 
our  mother  was  ill,"  Zeo  added.  "  She  used  to  write  us  long 
and  beautiful  letters  when  we  were  off  at  school.  I  wish," 
the  young  lady  began  to  say,  "that  we  could  all  be  as 
good  as  she  is ;  that  is  "  — 

"  We  will  be,"  her  sister  added  for  her,  "when  we  get  to  be 
angels.  But  I  am  not  pious  now,  one  bit.  I  love  fun  and 
flowers,  and  like  to  laugh,  and  to  ride,  and  to  talk,  too  much 
for  that.  Wait,  sir,  until  Miss  Aurelia  begins  to  send  you 
slippers  and  things.  Wait !  Tell  us  what  you  think  of 
Commodore  Grandheur,  Mr.  Venable." 

"  He  seems  to  be  a  very  stately,  I  dare  say  a  most  excel- 
lent gentleman,"  Mr.  Venable  replied  with  some  difficulty, 
hesitating  a  little. 


48  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"  As  if  you  could  deceive  us  !  "  the  more  voluble  of  the 
young  ladies  said.  "  I  won't  hush,  Zeo.  He  is  exactly  as 
he  was  when  we  left.  He  has  been  superintendent  of  our 
Sunday  school  for  years.  Ever  since  we  can  remember,  he 
wore  that  white  waistcoat,  and  carried  his  gold-headed  cane 
and  pompous  manner,  as  if  he  were  monarch  of  all  crea- 
tion." But  here  she  yielded  to  the  eyes,  and  hand  on  her 
arm,  of  her  sister.  "  Dear  me  !  bless  my  soul !  I  'm  always 
doing  something  bad;  but  I  only  say  what  other  people 
hide,"  she  added.  "The  commodore  is  "  —  But,  under  the 
authoritative  eyes  of  her  sister,  she  stopped. 

The  young  minister  reddened  as  he  caught  the  malicious 
eyes  of  Irene  fastened  upon  him  :  he  had  taken  such  a  dis- 
like to  the  individual,  resenting  the  solemn  superiority  of 
manner  and  air  with  which  the  commodore  had  taken  charge 
of  him  with  his  portentous  cane.  In  virtue  of  an  old  and 
bad  habit  of  his,  formed  in  college  and  seminary  days,  the 
young  man  sank  into  deep  thought,  while  Irene  talked  on 
upon  a  hundred  topics,  her  sister  and  father  as  silent  beside 
them  as  usual. 

"  Excuse  me,  Miss  Irene,"  Mr.  Venable  said  at  last,  and 
recalling  himself  to  the  matter  of  which  she  was  speaking  : 
"you  need  not  defend  yourself  as  being  too  full  of  life. 
How  could  you  help  it,  born  and  growing  up  in  such  an 
atmosphere?  So  far  as  I  can  see,  everybody  seems  "  — 

"As  if  he  or  she  had  been  taking  a  little  too  much 
brandy,"  his  companion  interrupted,  as  she  always  did ; 
"  everybody  except  Zeo.  She  is  an  owl.  It  is  because  Grit 
and  I  give  her  so  much  trouble.  But  no  two  people  in  St. 
Jerome  are  the  least  bit  alike.  Everybody  is  a  peculiar 
person,  but  each  in  his  own  way.  We  are  thrown  together 
here,  you  know,  from  every  State  in  the  Union,  as  well  as 
from  all  over  the  world.  I  haven't  forgotten  a  soul  of  them ; 
they  are  people  you  can't  forget,  to  save  your  life.  There's 
Father  Fethero,  he  plainly  perceives  a  gloom ;  never  mind, 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  49 

Mr.  Venable,  you'll  understand  what  I  mean  by  that  as  soon 
as  you  know  him.  Then,  there  is  Farce  Fanthorp,  and  Phip 
Quatty ;  but  you  have  met  him.  Wait  until  you  have  heard 
him  !  Then  there  is  —  I  liked  to  have  forgotten  him  :  we 
always  forget  him  —  Mr.  Nogens;  and,  yes,  there  is  —  let 
me  see  "  — 

"You  have  forgotten  Ezra  Micajah  Parsons,"  Gen.  But- 
tolph  said,  folding  and  unfolding  his  hands  as  he  sat  in  his 
easy-chair. 

"So  I  have,"  his  daughter  exclaimed.  "And  there  is 
Col.  Roland,  editor,  poet,  and  lover ;  the  youngest  man  you 
ever  knew,  Mr.  Venable,  and  the  oldest." 

"  And  Clara  Chaffingsby,  and  Charles,"  Zeo  said  softly  in 
the  moment  of  silence  which  followed.  There  was  a  hush 
upon  all  as  she  said  it,  as  if  she  had  mentioned  the  dead. 

"  For  shame,  Zeo  ! "  her  sister  broke  in  again,  adding,  — 

"  And  there  is  Mrs.  Chaffingsby.  O  Mr.  Venable  !  The 
richest  treat  is  before  you  in  Mrs.  Chaffingsby.  You  have 
no  idea  !  "  and  the  eyes  of  the  young  lady  were  so  full  of 
fun  as  she  spoke  with  uplifted  hands,  that,  not  caring  par- 
ticularly as  yet  about  Mrs.  Chaffingsby,  the  young  divinity- 
student  carried  a  pleasing  impression  of  the  lively  girl  with 
him  to  his  room  when  he  withdrew ;  but  his  last  thoughts  as 
he  fell  asleep,  and  his  first  upon  awakening,  were  not  of  her. 
She  might  compel  his  attention  while  he  was  with  them,  but 
his  expectation,  so  to  speak,  even  then  was  fastened  rather 
upon  her  quiet  sister  than  herself;  and,  as  soon  as  he  got 
away,  he  reverted  wholly  to  Miss  Zeo.  He  was  beginning  to 
thrive  wonderfully  in  health  and  spirits ;  and  somehow  his 
health  had  lodged  itself  in  and  was  growing  most  vigorous 
in  the  region  of  his  heart.  But  why  should  it  turn,  like  the 
witch-hazel  in  his  hands,  toward  treasure  out  of  sight?  For 
he  could  not  understand  her. 


5O  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN   WHICH   MR.   VENABLE   BEGINS   TO   SEE   THAT   ST.     JEROME   IS 
AS  TROPICAL  IN   ITS   PEOPLE   AS   IN   ITS   CLIMATE. 

FOR  the  present  Mr.  Venable  had  yielded  to  the  cordial 
wish  of  Gen.  Buttolph,  and  made  himself  at  home  in 
his  ample  mansion.  The  building  was  two-storied,  with  a 
broad  veranda,  two-storied  also,  upon  every  side,  and  sup- 
plied with  Venetian  blinds.  Around  the  house,  which  was  in 
the  suburbs  of  the  city,  were  a  dozen  acres.  Besides  the 
luxuriant  kitchen-gardens  behind  the  house,  and  the  flower- 
gardens  on  either  side,  there  were  orchards  of  fig,  orange, 
and  lemon  trees.  These  had  to  be  helped  with  axe  and 
grubbing-hoe  against  the  oleander,  china,  and  ailanthus 
trees,  which,  environing  the  place  outside,  crowded  into  the 
front  yard,  and  struggled  like  an  army  with  banners,  for  the 
possession,  too,  of  garden  and  orchard.  In  one  corner, 
sheltered  from  the  terrible  northers,  a  few  olive-trees  and 
almonds,  guava-plants  and  bananas,  clustered  together  like 
foreigners  not  quite  at  home. 

" How  did  your  trees  manage  to  stand  the  storm?"  the 
guest  asked  of  a  thick-set,  vigorous,  and  very  black  negro, 
whom  he  found  working  in  the  grounds  a  few  days  after  his 
coming. 

"  You  hold  your  tongue,  boy,"  replied  a  tall,  thin,  old 
white-headed  negro,  hidden  by  the  foliage,  winter  as  it  was, 
off  to  one  side.  "  You  shet  up,  an'  lemme  talk,"  the  old 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  5 1 

man  said,  coming  up  and  laying  a  long  but  feeble  arm  upon 
the  shoulder  of  the  other ;  Mr.  Venable  recognizing  them  as 
the  two  servants  of  Gen.  Buttolph  who  had  greeted  their 
landing.  It  was  a  wonder  that  he  could  stand  up,  much 
less  walk  abroad,  he  was  such  a  skeleton,  such  a  mummy  of 
a  man. 

"He  don't  know  nuffin,"  the  speaker  explained.  "We 
stood  de  storm,"  he  added,  "  bekase  we're  on  de  highest 
point  ob  de  whole  island ; "  and  the  old  soul  waved  his  hand 
toward  the  expanse  of  land  and  sea  around  as  if  their  twenty 
feet  of  elevation  was  that  of  the  Alps  instead. 

"  But  why  don't  you  let  this  man  speak?"  asked  Mr.  Ven- 
able, turning  to  look  again  at  the  other  negro,  who,  besides 
being  as  stout  as  he  was  black,  had  a  large  head,  no  senator 
possessing  more  dignity  as  by  the  majesty  of  his  very  silence. 

"  Him  !  dis  child  ! "  the  old  man  ejaculated,  looking  at 
the  other  as  if  at  a  weed.  "  Him !  why,  massa,  he  my 
grandchild,  an'  born  here  in  St.  Jerome.  I'm  from  ole  Fir- 
ginny,  Prince  Edward  Curtus  "  (meaning  "court-house"). 
"  He  don't  know  much,  but  he  do  know  not  to  talk  when  I'm 
around."  The  aged  aristocrat  drew  himself  up  with  dignity, 
as  he  said  it ;  and  the  visitor  recognized  the  source  from 
which  the  grandson  had  derived  his  majestic  proportions. 

But  at  this  juncture  the  dinner-bell  rang,  and  Venable 
had  to  leave  them,  by  no  means  unwillingly.  After  the 
scanty  herbage  and  close-cut  hedges  of  the  institution  from 
which  he  came,  Gen.  Buttolph's  place  seemed  as  glorious  as 
Eden.  The  fact  that  he  had  left  the  North  in  mid-winter,  to 
find  what  was  comparatively  summer  again,  made  his  new 
home  almost  marvellous.  Direct,  also,  from  the  Spartan  fare 
of  his  seminary,  the  table  of  his  host  seemed  to  him  laden 
with  Oriental  abundance.  Such  bread,  for  whiteness  and 
lightness,  he  had  rarely  seen.  The  beef  was  the  tenderest, 
the  poultry  the  juiciest,  the  vegetables  the  largest  and  most 
enjoyable,  in  all  his  knowledge.  Not  a  sweet  potato  but 


52  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

exceeded  in  sweetness  his  ideal  of  pudding,  or  would  have 
done  so  if  it  had  not  been  surpassed  by  a  peculiar  sort  of 
corn-bread  at  breakfast,  of  which  it  was  impossible  to  eat 
enough.  The  young  man  blushed  at  his  keenness  of  appe- 
tite. The  coffee  alone,  yellowed  with  richest  cream,  was  a 
coffee  before  unheard  of. 

Every  morning  there  would  be  a  knock  upon  his  door  a 
good  hour  before  the  breakfast-bell  rang ;  and,  Mr.  Venable 
awakened  enough  to  say,  "  Come  in,"  the  younger  Plenty 
would  enter,  and  silently  place  a  cup  of  this  coffee  on  its 
silver  waiter,  with  sugar  and  cream-jug,  upon  the  little  table 
at  the  head  of  his  bed,  and  as  silently  withdraw.  The  heat 
and  fragrance  was  as  if  a  richer  morning  than  that  without 
had  dawned  within  his  room,  and  one  could  arise  and  dress 
so  much  more  deliberately  after  draining  the  cup.  Grit,  the 
fat  son  of  his  host,  sat  next  him  at  table,  eating  with  a  long 
and  slow  enjoyment  of  his  food,  which  alarmed  the  visitor 
for  the  intellectual  development  of  that  youth.  And  a  silent 
and  yellow-complexioned  boy  of  ten  or  so,  Grit  was ;  more 
like  an  extremely  plump  Cupid  devoid  of  wings  and  weapons, 
and  carved  out  of  butter,  than  any  thing  else.  He  seemed 
to  be  so  wholly  flesh  and  blood,  —  so  unlike  the  studious 
children,  pale  and  crammed  with  learning,  and  always  on 
edge,  of  his  previous  experience,  —  that  the  guest  of  the 
house  took  a  liking  to  the  boy  as  a  charming  variety  of  the 
species. 

"  I  like  to  see  him  and  talk  to  him,"  he  said  to  Irene  :  "  he 
is  so  fresh  and  childlike,  and  free  from  care.  He  does  not 
say  much  as  yet,  but  he  seems  to  me  as  innocent  as  a  babe." 

Upon  which,  to  his  surprise,  she  exclaimed,  "  O  Mr.  Ven- 
able !  I  had  no  idea  you  could  be  so  sarcastic.  Is  it  possi- 
ble you  have  not  found  Grit  out  yet?"  with  a  look  of 
genuine  astonishment. 

That  very  evening  her  sister  drew  Gen.  Buttolph  aside, 
as  the  supper-bell  rang,  to  tell  him  something  in  a  low  voice, 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  53 

evidently  about  her  brother.  But  Grit  was  at  table  after- 
ward, partaking  largely  of  preserved  figs  and  cream,  a  cherub 
in  serenity  and  sweetness,  turning  upon  his  father  the  gaze 
of  innocence  as  the  general  held  up  his  hand,  upon  his 
leaving  table,  saying  to  the  boy  in  ominous  accents,  "  Re- 
member ! " 

It  was  to  relieve  any  embarrassment  following  on  this, 
that  their  guest  said,  a  few  moments  after,  of  his  eating,  "  I 
suppose  it  is  travel,  change  of  scene  and  air,  but  really  I  am 
ashamed  of  myself." 

"  Not  at  all,"  his  host  replied.  "  Old  aunt  Plenty  is  the 
best  cook  in  St.  Jerome.  I  bought  her  in  Old  Virginia  for 
that.  Young  Plenty  —  Okra  is  his  real  name — and  old  Plenty 
were  thrown  in :  into  one  trade,  I  mean.  I  like  to  see  our 
guests  enjoy  themselves.  Enjoyment  is,  in  my  opinion,"  the 
general  added,  his  broad  face  as  genial  as  the  rising  sun, 
"  a  solemn  duty." 

"  I  am  doing  my  duty,  then,"  the  young  man  said  to 
himself  that  night,  as  he  undressed  for  bed.  "  It  is  such 
a  sudden  change  in  my  life  !  Was  there  ever  such  a  luxu- 
rious home  ?  And  what  delightful  people  !  Then,  I  am 
twenty-one.  There  is  the  responsibility  of  this  important 
church  too.  It  is  like  Paradise.  I  wonder  who  or  what  is 
the  serpent.  It  cannot  be  Commodore  Thomas  William 
Grandheur.  Strange  that  an  old  gentleman  of  such  fine 
presence  and  all  should  seem  so  empty.  And  how  remark- 
able that  he  never  dreams  of  it  himself !  Yet  he  is.  And, 
pray,  who  and  what  are  you  ?  "  he  turned  sharply  and  rebuk- 
ingly  upon  himself  with  the  demand. 

He  would  have  been  more  puzzled  to  answer  this  demand 
after  the  sabbath  which  followed  his  first  in  St.  Jerome. 
The  church  was  a  large  one.  In  virtue  of  being  of  a  high 
pitch  also,  from  floor  to  ceiling,  and  being,  by  reason  of  the 
climate,  almost  all  windows  and  green  blinds,  there  was  a 
broad  and  airy  effect  within  the  edifice,  wonderfully  like  that 


54  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

out  of  doors.  Every  seat  below,  as  well  as  in  the  gallery 
above,  at  the  end,  and  on  either  side,  was  filled.  Morning 
and  night  the  young  man  preached.  The  sermons  had  been 
prepared  long  before,  with  cruel  care.  He  had  been  aston- 
ished at  being  able  to  prepare  such  remarkable  sermons; 
and,  being  in  his  own  estimation  his  very  best,  they  were  his 
very  worst.  Agonizing  doubts,  however,  darkened  his  soul 
when  he  went  home  after  the  benediction  at  night.  As  to  the 
market  value  of  his  efforts,  no  Hindoo  at  that  moment  in 
India  could  have  been  more  profoundly  ignorant :  more 
than  a  million  or  less  than  a  mill,  he  would  have  instantly 
adopted  the  opinion  of  the  least  hearer  there,  could  he  have 
known  it,  —  eagerly  adopted  it  as  the  only  opinion  a  sane 
person  could  hold.  If,  however,  you  think,  dear  reader,  that 
this  man  is  to  be  the  hero  of  this  narrative,  you  are  greatly 
mistaken.  This  is  neither  a  religious  biography  nor  a  theo- 
logical treatise  :  it  is  a  true  story  of  an  actual  world. 

Upon  his  return  with  the  family  from  church  on  Sunday 
night,  the  young  people  ascended,  at  the  suggestion  of  Miss 
Irene,  to  the  observatory,  —  not  a  house  in  St.  Jerome  with- 
out its  little  turret  and  flag-staff,  —  and  gazed  from  their  ele- 
vation upon  the  scene  open  on  every  side.  Around  them  lay 
the  city,  buried  in  masses  of  foliage,  the  white  houses  stand- 
ing out  in  strong  contrast  under  a  moonlight  brilliant  enough 
to  read  by.  There  were  calm  and  silence  to  where  sky  and 
sea  met  in  every  direction  around,  and  a  light  which  was 
to  that  of  the  day  as  romance  is  to  fact.  The  young 
ladies  were  more  richly  dressed  than  he  had  been  used  to 
see ;  and  both  seemed  at  once  older  and  more  beautiful  in 
consequence,  but  in  very  different  ways. 

"  The  sky  has  never  seemed  so  boundless  above  me,"  the 
young  man  said  at  last ;  "  nor  my  life  as  boundless  before 
me,"  he  added  slowly,  regretting  the  words  as  soon  as 
spoken. 

"I  do  not  wonder,"  the   elder  of  the  ladies  replied. 


A  YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  55 

Something  in  her  tones  smote  him  with  apprehension ;  the 
fact  being,  that  he  was  hesitating  between  two  certainties. 
"To-morrow,"  he  had  stated  them  to  himself,  "the  offi- 
cers of  the  First  Church  will  come  in  a  body  to  tell  me, 
with  enthusiasm,  that  I  am  the  most  eloquent  orator,  the 
most  desirable  pastor,  St.  Jerome  has  ever  imagined.  Or, 
and  more  likely,  I  will  have  a  call  from  Commodore  Grand- 
heur,  deputed  for  the  purpose,  to  tell  me  that  I  am  a  dead 
failure,  and  that,  if  I  will  take  the  Nautilus  back  on  its  next 
trip,  they  will  be  greatly  obliged.  And,  now,  what  did  Miss 
Irene  mean?"  he  thought. 

"Who  was  that  dark  and  silent  gentleman,"  he  asked, 
staving  off  a  decision  of  the  matter  which  would  be  to  him 
paradise,  but  much  more  probably  perdition,  "  who  intro- 
duced himself  after  morning  service?  " 

"The  one  in  the  snuff-colored  suit?  Oh,  that!"  Miss 
Irene  said,  "  was  Mr.  Nogens.  He  is  an  officer  of  the 
church  because  he  is  so  good ;  that  is,  he  never  did  any 
thing  in  his  life,  nor  ever  said  any  thing.  Ever  since  I  can 
remember,  he  was  the  same.  He  comes  to  every  meeting, 
you  know,  and  sits  there.  Nobody  has  ever  found  any 
thing  to  say  about,  much  less  against,  him.  He  is  such  a 
good  man  !  The  instant  you  don't  see  him,  you  forget  all 
about  him.  He  is  Mr.  Nogens,  and  that  is  all ;  except 
that  he  wears  a  wig,  and  he  thinks  nobody  knows  it.  Hush, 
Zeo  !  You  see,  he  has  a  little  curl  of  it  pasted  down  on  his 
forehead,  and  he  can  tell  by  feeling  that  whether  it  is  on 
right.  That  makes  Mr.  Nogens  so  quiet :  he  is  afraid  of 
deranging  his  wig.  He  always  feels  for  that  little  curl  when 
anybody  is  saying  any  thing  earnest  to  him.  He  keeps  his 
finger  upon  it  all  the  time  when  Miss  Aurelia  Jones  is  talk- 
ing. Never  mind  about  him,  Mr.  Venable ;.  nobody  ever 
does  mind.  But  I  wanted  to  tell  you  how  exceedingly  "  — 

"  Pardon  me,"  her  companion  interrupted  with  some  haste. 
"  I  wanted  to  ask  about  a  gentleman  I  met  on  Saturday.  I 


56  A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

was  standing  on  the  street,  when  he  came  along  very  rapidly. 
He  is  quite  a  tall  man,  very  shabbily  dressed,  with  a  singu- 
larly narrow  but  high  forehead.  He  had  (I  beg  his  pardon) 
an  unusually  long  nose.  I  never  saw  a  person  drive  along 
at  such  a  swift  pace,  his  head  bent  forward,  his  eyes  on  the 
ground.  He  caught  sight  of  me  in  passing,  but  was  under 
such  headway,  that  he  was  a  rod  beyond  me  before  he  could 
turn  and  come  back.  Then  he  was  in  an  extreme  hurry. 
I  could  not  keep  up  with  him  in  what  he  said,  at  all.  He 
shook  me  by  the  hand  very  cordially  indeed,  welcomed  me 
to  St.  Jerome,  asked  me  how  I  liked  it,  where  I  was  staying, 
how  old  I  was,  where  I  was  born,  at  what  college  I  was  edu- 
cated, —  a  dozen  questions  without  giving  me  time  to  answer 
one.  Who  is  he  ?  for  he  forgot  to  tell  me  his  name." 

"  It  couldn't  be  Mr.  Phip  Quatty,"  Irene  Buttolph  replied. 
"  Did  he  say  any  thing  about  his  having  been  an  oysterman  ? 
We  have  been  absent  two  years,  you  know." 

"  It  was  not  Mr.  Quatty :  I  know  him,"  the  young  man 
said,  "  for  we  met  him  on  our  landing.  Besides,  Mr.  Quatty 
told  me  at  church  to-day  that  he  would  certainly  be  at  our 
Wednesday-night  prayer-meeting." 

"  He  did  !  I  do  wish,"  Irene  said  with  energy,  "  that  his 
horses  would  run  away  with  him,  and  never  stop  until  they 
got  to  China.  And  there  is  not  a  better  man  alive.  Oh, 
bother  !  "  she  added  violently. 

"  Irene,"  her  sister  said,  laughing  in  spite  of  herself,  and 
merrily,  but  laying  her  hand,  in  the  moonlight,  on  her  arm. 
"  For  shame,  sister  ! " 

"The  gentleman  on  the  street,"  Mr.  Venable  continued, 
"  said  he  was  glad  to  see  me,  because  he  had  got  an  idea. 
He  was  full  of  enthusiasm  about  it.  He  said  that  it  was  a 
glorious  idea ;  that  he  had  hit  upon  a  good  many  things,  but 
that  this  was  the  best  idea  he  had  ever  had :  speaking  as 
rapidly  as  he  had  walked.  While  speaking,  he  held  up  the 
palm  of  his  left  hand,  and  began,  with  the  forefinger  of  his 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  57 

right  hand,  to  draw  his  plan  on  it  like  a  diagram.  '  I  thank 
God,'  he  said,  '  that  I  ever  thought  of  it.  It  is  wo'nderful  it 
was  never  thought  of  before.'  But  just  then,"  continued 
Mr.  Venable,  "  Capt.  Chaffin  came  up,  and  shook  hands  with 
both  of  us,  and  asked  me  when  I  was  coming  to  see  her,  — 
I  understood  him  to  say,  —  Mrs.  Chaffingsby.  The  instant 
he  spoke,  the  other  said,  '  Bah  !  Pshaw !  Stuff  and  non- 
sense !  Fiddlesticks  ! '  and  was  off  like  a  shot." 

"  I  think  I  know  who  he  is,"  Zeo  made  sober  reply,  her 
sister  being  unusually  silent.  "  We  knew  him  before  we 
went  to  school,  Irene.  It  must  be  Mr.  Parsons,  —  Mr.  Ezra 
Micajah  Parsons." 

"  Of  course  !  "  Irene  replied.  "  Did  he  say  any  thing  else, 
Mr.  Venable? "  The  young  girl  asked  the  question,  looking 
archly  at  their  companion,  who  colored. 

The  fact  was,  Mr.  Parsons,  having  learned,  in  the  course 
of  his  rapid  questioning,  that  the  new  minister  was  staying 
for  the  present  at  Gen.  Buttolph's,  had  said  promptly, 
"  Miserable  business  1  This  is  all  wrong  !  That  will  never 
do  !  There  are  two  decided  reasons  against  it ;  "  with  such 
emphasis  on  the  word  "two  "  that  the  guest  shrank  from  tell- 
ing the  sisters  of  it.  Yet  they  seemed  to  know. 

"  Why  is  it,"  Mr.  Venable  asked,  to  turn  the  conversation, 
"  that  every  thing  here  in  St.  Jerome  is  so  positive  ?  The 
sky  is  so  blue,  the  foliage  so  green,  this  moonlight  is  so  un- 
usually brilliant !  This  pomegranate,  for  instance,"  holding 
up  one  which  he  had  brought  down  from  the  fruit-basket  in 
his  room  :  "  its  seeds  are  of  such  a  vivid  crimson ;  the  skin 
is  as  bitter,  too,  as  each  seed  is  pungent.  It  is  the  same  of 
the  people.  Almost  every  person  I  have  met  has  a  marked 
individuality.  Even  your  Mr.  Nogens  is  and  does  and  says 
nothing,  as  you  say,  in  a  positive  way." 

"That  is  St.  Jerome,"  Miss  Irene  said;  "and  O  Mr. 
Venable  !  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  !  I  have  been  want- 
ing to  tell  you  ho'w  much  we  liked  your  sermons."  And 


58  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

she  did  tell  him,  at  some  length  too.  Although  he  made  an 
attempt  to  deprecate,  and  arrest  the  enthusiastic  young  lady, 
she  would  have  her  say.  Nor  was  it  immodestly  done  ;  she 
seemed  sincerely  pleased.  "  You  know  what  an  outspoken 
person  I  am,"  she  added.  "If  I  don't  like  any  thing,  I 
speak  just  as  freely." 

He  thanked  her,  not  without  pain,  too,  mingled  with  the 
pleasure,  he  knew  not  why. 

"  Irene,"  her  sister  interposed  at  last,  "  it  is  near  midnight. 
Mr.  Venable  must  be  tired."  She  had  leaned,  all  the  time, 
like  a  mere  listener,  upon  the  side  of  the  observatory  win- 
dow farthest  from  the  young  man.  Somehow  the  authority 
of  her  words  lay  in  their  sweetness ;  but  their  companion 
wished,  as  he  undressed  for  bed,  that  she  had  said  at  least 
something. 

Mr.  Venable  had  been  already  called  upon  by  the  leading 
men  of  his  church ;  and  the  next  day  he  set  out  upon  his 
visits  in  return.  At  first  Commodore  Grandheur  went  with 
him  ;  and  the  new  minister  was  made  to  feel  as  if  he  were  not 
merely  a  very  young  man,  but  as  if  he  were  an  inexperienced 
young  lady  rather,  needing  assistance  at  every  step.  It  was 
as  if  his  stately  companion  had  said  at  each  house,  "  You 
see  I  have  brought  this  youth.  Be  as  forbearing  with  him  as 
possible."  And  then  the  old  hero  would  plant  his  cane 
more  firmly  between  his  knees,  smooth  his  white  moustache, 
and  patiently  allow  the  other  to  vindicate  himself  as  well  as 
he  could  for  daring  to  undertake  so  important  a  charge. 
After  a  few  experiences  of  this  kind,  Mr.  Venable  insisted, 
although  with  all  deference,  upon  going  alone.  Occasion- 
ally, which  was  about  the  same  thing,  he  took  Mr.  Nogens 
with  him.  As  Mr.  Nogens  never  ventured  beyond  rubbing 
his  hands  together,  and  saying  "yes"  in  emergencies,  the 
new  minister  had  uninterrupted  opportunity  of  becoming 
acquainted  with  his  people. 

It  was  a  large  church,  and  the  membership  was  as  varied  as 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  59 

it  was  numerous.  There  were  heavy  wholesale  merchants,  as 
well  as  retail  dealers,  in  dry  goods  and  hardware ;  doctors, 
fishermen,  retired  sea-captains,  mechanics,  milliners,  pro- 
vision-dealers, clerks,  superintendents  or  workmen  in  the 
warehouses  in  which  cotton-bales  were  compressed  for  ship- 
ping. Quite  a  number  were  families  who  had  left  their  plan- 
tations to  the  care  of  overseers  in  the  interior,  and  lived  upon 
the  island  for  the  education  of  their  children,  and  the  marry- 
ing of  their  daughters.  There  were  numbers  of  young  men, 
also,  whose  connection  with  the  church  was  hereditary,  but 
whose  personal  interest  lay  in  quite  other  directions.  Be- 
hind St.  Jerome  was  the  magnificent  State,  an  empire  in 
itself.  The  city  was  like  the  hand  which  the  State  had 
reached  out,  open  and  cordial,  to  greet  the  coming  world ; 
and  the  more  the  new  arrival  experienced  of,  so  to  speak, 
the  pulse  and  pressure  thereof,  the  more  delighted  he  was 
that  it  had  become  his  home.  You  can  almost  always 
awaken  love  in  men  as  well  as  women  by  yourself  falling 
in  love  with  them ;  and,  just  coming  up  as  Mr.  Venable  was 
from  the  charnel-house  of  books,  he  was  so  much  pleased 
with  such  a  people,  so  un-bookish  and  in  harmony  with  their 
beautiful  climate  and  with  Nature  were  they,  that  it  was  im- 
possible but  they  also  should  be  pleased  with  him. 


6O  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IN  WHICH,   FOR  THE   FIRST  TIME   IN  HIS   LIFE,   MR.   VENABLE 
SEES  ONE  OF   HIS   IDEALS  ALIVE  AND   BREATHING. 

ALMOST  from  the  hour  of  his  landing,  Mr.  Venable 
had  been  both  amazed  and  amused  at  the  effect  pro- 
duced in  him  by  having  landed  upon  an  island ;  especially 
as  he  found  that  the  twenty  thousand  people  of  St.  Jerome 
felt  about  it  as  he  did.  With  him  and  with  them  there  was 
a  feeling,  in  virtue  of  being  surrounded  by  the  sea,  as  if  one 
were  done  forever  with  the  rest  of  the  world. 

"  I  am  completely  quit  of  the  past,"  was  his  continual 
thought.  "  I  am  to  live  here  till  I  die,  and  I  am  glad  of  it." 
Like  everybody  else,  he  felt  as  if  he  had  a  personal  ac- 
quaintance with  all  he  met.  Being  housed  together  by  the 
surf  sounding  all  around  them,  they  were  at  last  but  one 
family.  The  climate  being  so  delicious,  they  were  there  to- 
gether upon  the  sand  and  among  the  oleanders  and  orange- 
trees  for  a  picnic,  with  splendid  weather  for  it,  under  the 
cloudless  sky,  or  the  almost  as  brilliant  light  of  moon  and 
stars.  It  was  not  merely  the  fellow  feeling  of  sailors  on  ship 
and  out  of  sight  of  land,  but  rather  as  of  passengers  on  a 
day's  frolic  together  upon  a  coral  island  in  mid-sea.  In  such 
circumstances  Commodore  Thomas  William  Grandheur  was 
to  be  taken  as  a  matter  of  course.  His  idea  was  plainly  this  : 
"  No  crew  afloat  need  a  commander  more  than  do  the  people 
of  this  island,  and  no  man  is  so  admirably  qualified  for  that 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  6l 

office  as  myself."  He  was  not  superintendent  of  the  Sunday 
school  of  the  First  Church  for  nothing.  The  children  were  to 
be  held  firmly ;  but  that  was  merely  good  practice,  enabling 
him  to  keep  steady  hold  upon  the  rest.  Mr.  Venable  had  been 
called  to  be  pastor,  against  his  wishes.  That  the  people  had 
defied  his  awful  authority,  was  proof  that  he  must  stand  firm 
and  save  them  from  themselves.  The  old  man  was  so  stately, 
so  thoroughly  satisfied  with  himself,  so  sincerely  good  at 
heart,  that  it  seemed  to  Mr.  Venable  a  sin,  the  unanimity  with 
which  everybody,  from  the  least  child  up,  laughed  at  their 
solemn  custodian,  glancing  at  each  other  in  the  midst  of  his 
most  impressive  assumptions,  with  lips  pursed  up  and  irrev- 
erent winks,  as  if  it  were  the  best  joke  going.  If  the  com- 
modore had  not  been  near-sighted,  a  little  hard  of  hearing, 
and  so  convinced  of  his  own  supremacy,  he  must  have  seen 
it.  So  it  had  been  for  many  years.  For  weeks  after  Mr. 
Venable 's  arrival,  Commodore  Grandheur  waited.  Amid 
the  general  enthusiasm  of  the  people  for  their  new  pastor,  all 
he  wanted  to  know  was  the  final  decision  of  Miss  Aurelia 
Jones.  But  that  lady  grew  the  more  fervid  in  her  admiration 
with  every  passing  sabbath.  She  was  speaking  about  it  in 
her  infant-class  room  to  a  group  of  teachers  one  afternoon 
when  Sunday  school  was  over. 

"No,"  she  said,  " you  are  all  wrong.  You  like  Mr.  Vena- 
ble because  he  is  young ;  because  he  gets  pale  in  the  pulpit 
as  he  grows  more  in  earnest.  All  wrong.  I  do  not  care  for 
his  beautiful  periods,  gestures,  illustrations,  pathetic  prayers 
and  appeals.  All  I  care  for  in  the  world  is  fervor.  Give 
me  pure,  humble  ardor,  yes,  fervor,  and  I  would  be  satisfied 
if  he  had  nothing  else."  And  the  lady  was  so  glowing,  was 
so  rich  and  useful  too,  that  her  words  gave  a  sanction  to  the 
new  minister.  The  fact  must  be  added,  that  Miss  Aurelia 
had,  even  thus  early  in  their  acquaintance,  sent  Mr.  Venable 
a  beautifully- worked  bookmark  or  two.  Miss  Irene  had 
been  the  one  who  had  made  a  point  to  hand  him  the  enclos- 


62  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

ure  when  it  came,  adding  the  mystical  words,  "  Wait,  Mr, 
Venable,  you  only  wait,"  with  a  somewhat  malicious  smile 
on  her  lips. 

Commodore  Grandheur  heard  all  the  praise  of  the  new 
pastor,  —  heard  it  often  and  warmly  expressed  by  Miss  Au- 
relia  Jones.  It  decided  him.  The  lady  and  himself  had 
never  agreed.  They  had  come  into  collision  upon  a  hun- 
dred points  connected  with  church  and  Sunday  school,  and 
it  was  always  the  same.  The  colder  the  one  was,  that  much 
the  warmer  the  other.  The  ardor  of  the  lady  was  turning 
the  commodore  from  an  iceberg  into  a  rock.  "  I  never  say 
any  thing,"  he  said  one  day  to  good  Mr.  Nogens.  "  It  is 
not  wise  to  do  so.  It  is  beneath  my  dignity.  But  I  never 
had  but  one  opinion.  This  young  man  is  more  sophomori- 
cal  than  I  had  feared.  He  seems  to  be  modest  and  sin- 
cere ;  but  there  is  no  fibre  in  him.  What  he  may  grow  to 
be,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  his  sermons  are  all  froth  and  flowers. 
The  enthusiasm  will  soon  subside.  I  can  wait.  I  have  a 
good  edition  of  Blair  at  home.  You  have  read  Blair's 
sermons,  Mr.  Nogens?" 

No,  Mr.  Nogens  had  not.  Mr.  Nogens  had  nothing  to 
say  about  it,  one  way  or  the  other.  Mrs.  Nogens  was  deaf 
as  a  post,  and  her  husband  had  exhausted  himself  for  life 
in  trying  to  make  her  hear.  But  no  man,  even  the  vilest 
scoffer,  could  find  any  thing  against  Mr.  Nogens.  He  never 
did  any  thing  wrong,  never  said  a  syllable  out  of  the  way. 
The  commodore  could  unburden  his  opposition  to  him. 
Mr.  Nogens  was  as  safe  as  a  man  can  be  in  such  a  case. 
He  was  like  sawdust  to  stamping  feet,  like  sand  to  running 
water  :  no  fear  of  any  thing  doing  any  harm  or  making  any 
noise  through  him.  He  was  very  sallow-faced,  had  no 
beard,  and  wore,  as  has  been  said,  a  wig.  He  sat  and  lis- 
tened, but  that  was  all.  With  his  head  a  little  on  one  side 
while  you  spoke,  no  friend  could  give  you  more  attention,  — 
slowly  closing  his  eyes  and  compressing  his  lips  as  you 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  63 

became  more  and  more  excited  in  your  statement,  relaxing 
and  slowly  opening  them  again  when  your  burst  of  feel- 
ing was  over ;  and  nothing  beyond  that,  except  to  feel  with 
the  forefinger  of  his  slow  left  hand,  upon  his  temple,  if  the 
little  curl  plastered  thereupon  was  all  right,  and  then  remark, 
"  Yes,"  but  in  a  way  which  was  but  the  continuance  of  his 
interrupted  calm.  It  relieved  you  to  know  that  you  had 
said  your  say  to  so  good  a  man ;  that  he  must  know  that 
you  were  in  the  right,  even  if  he  never  said  so. 

Not  an  hour  after  parting  with  the  commodore  on  the 
occasion  of  the  remarks  just  quoted,  Mr.  Nogens  entertained 
his  pastor,  who  had  just  called.  Mrs.  Nogens  came  in  to  do 
honor  to  their  visitor,  with  her  old-fashioned  face,  and  such 
a  cheerful  readiness  to  hear  and  assent  to  any  thing,  if  any- 
body could  only  succeed  (which  was  impossible)  in  making 
her  hear  it ! 

"  I  am  very  well,  I  thank  you,"  their  caller  said,  full  of 
enthusiasm,  anxious  to  please  where  he  was  himself  de- 
lighted. "  What  a  glorious  climate  it  is  !  Nothing  can  be 
more  beautiful  than  sea  and  sky  and  this  town.  The  streets 
are  so  broad  and  white,  and  full  of  trees  !  I  have  been  mak- 
ing visits.  I  was  in  at  his  office  to  see  Col.  Roland  just 
now.  They  tell  me  he  was  secretary  of  state  to  the  gover- 
nor. Why  do  you  call  your  governor  '  Old  Ugly,'  Mr.  No- 
gens ?  The  colonel  has  been  an  editor  and  writer  of  poems, 
I  am  told,  for  many  years ;  yet  he  looks  so  young,  a  very 
pleasant  gentleman  indeed.  And  I  dropped  in  at  Squire 
Clarke's  provision-store.  I  was  delighted  when  I  heard  that 
he  had  broken  his  whiskey-bottles  and  poured  out  his  brandy 
after  joining  our  church  the  other  day.  Ought  we  not  to 
buy  our  groceries  there,  Mr.  Nogens?" 

Mr.  Nogens  listened  attentively ;  his  face  yellow,  worn,  and 
settled,  in  contrast  with  that  of  the  other,  which  was  bright 
with  hope  and  eagerness.  Mr.  Venable  paused  at  last,  from 
very  shame  at  having  taken  up  so  much  of  the  conversation, 


64  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

— paused  for  a  considerable  time.  He  was  just  beginning 
again,  when  Mr.  Nogens,  after  weighing  well  all  that  had 
been  advanced,  replied  very  deliberately,  "Yes." 

"  I  have  just  been  to  see  Capt.  Chaffin  also,"  the  visitor 
began  again,  —  "  or  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  :  I  do  not  know  which 
it  is.  What  a  nice  large  place  they  have  near  the  sea  !  I 
never  saw  a  more  beautiful  yard ;  so  full  of  sea-shells  in 
heaps  and  lining  the  walks.  I  did  not  know  there  was  such 
a  variety  in  sizes,  shapes,  and  colors,  before.  I  rang,  but  the 
lady  was  out.  A  young  girl,  I  mean  a  child,  came  to  the 
door.  I  wanted  to  ask,"  —  Mr.  Venable  hesitated  and  stam- 
mered,—  "  I  mean,  I  wanted  to  inquire  of  you  "  —  But  the 
visitor  colored  as  Mr.  Nogens  settled  himself  into  a  deeper 
attention,  beginning  to  close  his  eyes  and  compress  his  lips 
as  if  for  a  confidence  upon  the  part  of  the  speaker.  The 
silence  of  Mr.  Nogens  was  so  ominous,  however,  that,  as 
soon  as  Mr.  Venable  could  recover  himself,  he  changed  the 
conversation  to  church  matters.  In  leaving,  he  tried  to 
make  Mrs.  Nogens  understand,  by  his  smiling  and  the 
pressure  of  his  hand,  what  he  could  not  by  his  voice.  She 
was  very  willing  to  hear,  if  one  would  but  speak  loud 
enough.  Little  less  than  a  cannon,  however,  would  have 
been  sufficient.  And  yet  Mrs.  Nogens  was  far  from  being 
unhappy  in  her  enforced  seclusion  from  the  world.  There 
was  a  calmness  in  her  face,  which  recalled  to  the  mind  the 
fact  that  "  beyond  these  voices  there  is  peace ;  "  and  it 
seemed  a  coming-down  on  her  part,  as  from  serene  summits, 
when  she  endeavored  to  hear  what  was  said  to  her. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  Mr.  Venable  was  perplexed  as  he 
walked  away  from  Mr.  Nogens,  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Ezra 
Micajah  Parsons's  place,  out  in  the  suburbs.  Ever  since  his 
coming,  people  had  said,  "  Do  you  know  Mrs.  Chaffingsby?  " 
"  What !  have  you  not  seen  her  yet  ?  You  ought  by  all 
means  to  see  her,"  and  the  like.  There  was  something  so 
peculiar  in  the  way  in  which  people  mentioned  her,  that  he 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  65 

was  desirous,  and  yet  almost  afraid,  to  find  her  in.  During 
his  rapid  rounds  of  visitations,  as  the  weeks  passed,  he  had 
called  more  than  once,  to  find  the  front  gate  locked,  and 
the  house,  a  large  two-storied  mansion,  apparently  deserted. 
To-day,  just  before  visiting  Mr.  Nogens,  he  had  called  again 
upon  Mrs.  ChafHngsby ;  and  the  door  of  the  house  had  been 
opened  by  the  person  concerning  whom  he  had  tried,  as  we 
have  seen,  to  question  that  gentleman.  It  was  a  girl  who 
might  have  been  eighteen  years  old,  but  was  probably  not 
more  than  fourteen.  The  visitor  had  met  many  surprises  in 
his  strange  new  world,  but  none  so  great  as  this.  The 
blessing  and  the  curse  upon  him  was  his  keen  sensitiveness. 
It  was  his  nature,  and  it  had  been  unduly  cultivated  during 
years  of  seclusion  from  the  world,  and  hard  study.  But  he 
was  almost  as  deaf  to  music  as  Mrs.  Nogens,  in  comparison 
to  his  passion  for  color  and  form.  He  had  felt,  ever  since 
arriving,  as  if  he  had  walked  into  the  glowing  painting  of 
some  great  master.  It  was  because  he  was  of  so  tropical  a 
nature  himself;  because  he  had  been  repressed  so  long; 
because,  in  the  sudden  enjoyment  of  the  best  health  he  had 
ever  known,  he  had  reached  the  tropical  period  of  his  man- 
hood, and  had  entered  upon  it  with  new  zest  of  body,  of 
mind,  and  of  soul.  But  who  had  supposed  that  such  a 
person  ever  lived,  except  on  canvas,  as  this  girl  who  stood 
in  the  hah"  light,  half  shadow,  of  the  partially-opened  door 
at  Capt.  Chaffin's  that  day?  There  was  a  subtle  con- 
trast between  the  exquisite  white  and  red  of  her  complexion, 
and  the  soft  brown  of  her  abundant  hair,  which  he  had 
never  before  seen ;  the  purity  of  the  perfect  face  was  illu- 
mined by  eyes,  large,  blue,  deep  in  their  childlike  innocence. 
Sculpture  had  not  revealed  to  him  curve  and  form  like  this, 
nor  had  painting  hinted  of  such  blending  hues.  The  girl 
stood  looking  at  him,  her  lips  parted  like  a  rosebud  begin- 
ning to  bloom,  her  eyes  suddenly  yet  steadily  in  his.  The 
words  in  which  she  told  him  that  no  one  was  at  home  were 


66  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

nothing  in  themselves,  yet  they  were  in  harmony  as  to  their 
tones  with  the  smile  with  which  they  were  spoken.  In  fact, 
he  had  one  of  the  few  grand  surprises  of  his  life;  and  it 
was  but  for  an  instant.  Opening  the  door  with  her  left 
hand,  she  was  with  difficulty  keeping  some  one  back  and 
out  of  view  with  her  right  arm  extended  behind  her ;  and 
the  meeting  was  ended  almost  in  a  moment.  He  hardly 
observed  in  his  dazed  condition,  as  he  walked  away,  the 
loud  and  merry  yet  jarring  laugh  of  some  one  from  within, 
as  the  door  closed  behind  him.  And  this  explained  his 
eagerness,  and  yet  his  unwillingness,  to  speak  to  Mr.  Nogens 
about  it,  during  his  call  upon  him. 

As  he  left  that  silent  gentleman,  it  quickened  his  walk 
toward  Mr.  Parsons's  house,  the  hope  that  he  might  learn 
something  from  him ;  for,  that  there  was  something  singular 
in  the  case,  some  mystery  behind  the  loveliness  of  the  girl, 
he  felt  assured. 

His  destination  proved  to  be  farther  away  in  the  suburbs 
than  he  had  supposed.  Once  he  stopped  a  sailor  at  a  cor- 
ner, to  ask  the  way.  He  had  not  observed,  in  his  hurry,  that 
he  was  drunk,  —  so  very  drunk  that  he  was  highly  flattered 
at  being  questioned,  was  overflowing  with  information,  and 
both  dignified  and  effusive  in  the  manner  in  which,  at  great 
length,  and  holding  firmly  to  Mr.  Venable,  he  told  him  the 
way ;  but  told  him  so  entirely  wrong,  that  it  was  an  hour  be- 
fore he  found  himself  at  last  at  the  front  gate  of  Mr.  Par- 
sons's place.  And  a  magnificent  place  it  was,  containing 
about  ten  acres  closed  within  a  plank  fence  close  and  high. 
He  could  see,  over  the  top  of  this,  a  profusion  of  trees,  the 
house  with  its  observatory  and  flagstaff  on  the  roof  in  the 
midst.  As  he  came  to  the  gate,  Mr.  Parsons  walked  rapidly 
out,  recognized  his  pastor,  turned  around  after  passing  him 
in  his  haste,  and  came  back. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said ;  "  but  I  am  in  a  terrible 
hurry  just  now :  sorry  to  see  you,  in  fact.  How  are  you  ? 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  / 

The  fact  is,  I  have  just  thought  that  the  storm  when  you  came 
must  have  washed  out  the  channel  of  Hacamac.  It  is  at  the 
other  end  of  the  island,  and  ought  to  be  the  only  city  on  it. 
I  am  the  owner  of  Hacamac,  you  know.  It  is  weeks  ago 
since  that  storm,  but  I  never  thought  about  it.  Ten  minutes 
ago  the  idea  struck  me  like  a  shot.  How  is  Gen.  Buttolph  ? 
You  ought  not  to  be  stopping  there.  I  will  show  you  how 
and  why."  And  the  old  man,  tall  and  thin  and  eager,  began 
in  almost  breathless  haste  to  draw  a  diagram  in  the  sand. 
"Here,  you  see,  is  St.  Jerome.  Miserable  place  !  wretched 
channel.  This  is  the  arm  of  the  sea.  Now,"  making  marks 
deep  and  sweeping,  with  the  end  of  a  stalk  of  sugar-cane 
picked  up  from  the  ground,  "  this  point  of  the  island  pro- 
jecting into  the  ocean  is  Hacamac,  my  property.  Channel 
on  this  side,"  and  he  made  a  mark ;  "  still  deeper  channel 
on  this  side," — mark  yet  more  vigorous.  "See?  Why, 
sir,  the  navies  of  the  universe  could  lie  at  my  wharves  there. 
Plenty  of  water,  plenty,  —  oceans  !  And  it  struck  me  this 
instant,  that  the  last  storm  must  have  washed  my  bars  clean 
away.  I  am  going  to  get  Capt.  Chaffin  to  take  me  out  in 
his  schooner  right  off.  Next  time  you  come,  I  will  show  you 
round.  From  four  to  six  fathoms,  I  feel  confident.  And 
you  like  St.  Jerome  ?  It  is  because  you  know  nothing  what- 
ever about  it.  I  cannot  see  how  a  man  can  be  such  a  fool. 
Ten  years  from  to-day,  there  will  not  be  a  house  here.  Look 
at  my  town,  Hacamac.  Look  !  an  idiot  could  understand ; " 
and  Mr.  Parsons  proceeded,  sugar-cane  in  hand,  to  lay  off 
upon  the  loose  earth  the  points  of  compass,  bearings,  bars, 
channels,  islands,  and  all,  talking  swiftly  and  eagerly. 

"  But,  bless  my  soul,"  he  suddenly  said,  "  I  cannot  fool 
away  any  more  time.  And  it  reminds  me  that  your  sermons 
are  too  long.  Good-by.  Come  and  see  me  soon.  I  have 
five  hundred  things  in  there  to  show  you.  You  have  heard 
of  my  terraqueous  machine  ?  No :  I  walk  too  fast  to  be 
bothered  with  you.  Thank  you.  Sorry  you  came  to-day. 


68  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

Glad  to  see  you."  And  the  speaker  was  off,  only  to  turn 
around  and  come  back  again,  a  change  in  his  manner.  "  All 
I  do,  sir,"  he  said  solemnly,  "  is  for  the  Master.  The  entire 
world  lies  in  wickedness  and  woe.  A  good  part  of  the 
fiddlesticks  and  nonsense  of  Christians  to-day  is  in  thinking 
that  the  world  can  be  converted  with  a  few  thousands,  or  a  few 
hundreds  of  thousands.  It  will  take  millions  on  millions  of 
money  to  build  churches  and  send  missionaries.  I  am  try- 
ing to  make  money  chiefly  for  that."  There  was  a  sincerity 
in  the  tones  of  the  gaunt  old  man,  a  sudden  lowering  and 
sweetening  as  well  as  slackening  of  his  speech,  which  con- 
firmed Mr.  Venable  in  all  he  had  heard  of  the  excellent 
individual,  whose  eyes  brightened  as  he  added,  "  As  I  told 
you  before,  I  have  an  idea.  It  is,  how  to  convert  the  Roman 
Catholics.  A  splendid  idea  !  I  have  made  accurate  calcu- 
lation. It  can  be  done  in  fifteen  years.  It  is  a  glorious 
plan,  the  best  I  ever  made.  My  idea  of  Essential  Fruit,  even 
my  great  invention  of  Focussed  Flesh,  is  nothing  to  it.  It  is 
sure  to  succeed.  But  good-by.  Not  now.  Next  time  — 
Look  here,"  he  added :  "  has  Miss  Aurelia  Jones  sent  you 
any  thing  special  as  yet  ?  Ah,  well,  never  mind  !  Just  wait. 
But  good-by,  good-by  !  "  and  with  his  head  bent  forward  he 
made  up  for  lost  time  as  he  hurried  away. 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  69 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IN    WHICH   WE   COME  TO   KNOW  COL.   ROLAND,   MR.    FARCE   FAN- 
THORP,   AND   BEGIN  TO   BECOME  ACQUAINTED  WITH  MISS  ZEO. 

ONE  morning,  about  a  week  after  parting  so  abruptly 
from  Mr.  Parsons,  Mr.  Venable  was  taking  a  walk  be- 
fore breakfast,  upon  the  beach,  which  was  so  near  to  Gen. 
Buttolph's  that  the  last  sound  he  heard  at  night,  as  well  as 
the  first  in  the  morning,  was  the  dash  of  its  waves.  It  had 
a  soothing  influence  when,  pretty  tired  after  his  day's  work, 
he  fell  asleep  to  its  rhythmic  roar,  and  he  yielded  himself 
pleasurably  to  its  billows,  as,  lifting  and  lowering  him,  it 
bore  him  at  last,  unconscious  and  far  away,  upon  the  ocean 
of  dreams.  It  was  the  sea  which  slowly  awoke  him  in  the 
morning,  as  if  its  surges  were  bearing  him  back  again  from 
darkness  and  sleep  to  light  and  labor ;  and  he  was  forming 
that  passion  for  it  which  would  forever  make  an  inland  life 
dull  and  tame  in  comparison. 

Upon  the  morning  in  question,  he  was  strolling  slowly 
along  the  white  sand,  enjoying  the  cool  air  and  the  waves 
lapsing  into  lines  of  crisp  foam  at  his  feet.  So  absorbed  was 
he  in  thought,  his  head  upon  his  bosom  as  he  walked,  that 
he  did  not  observe  a  tall  pedestrian  who  had  come  from 
behind  the  heaps  of  drifted  sand  in  the  distance,  and  was 
rapidly  approaching  him  along  the  beach. 

"Good-morning,"  the  other  called  to  him  while  some 
yards  away.  "I  am  glad  to  see  that  there  are  two  men 


/O  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

sensible  enough  to  be  abroad  so  early ;  "  and  Mr.  Venable 
saw  that  it  was  Mr.  Parsons.  "  I  spent  last  night  at  Haca- 
mac,  and  am  in  a  hurry  to  get  home,"  he  continued  without 
waiting  for  a  reply  :  "  if  you  will  turn,  and  walk  fast  enough, 
I  will  be  glad  to  have  you  go  with  me.  Col.  Roland  had  a 
wretched  editorial  in  his  '  Standard '  yesterday,  in  regard  to 
Hacamac ;  and  I've  been  out  to  take  fresh  measurements  in 
order  to  refute  him.  But  what  can  you  expect  of  a  man 
who  is  a  politician  as  well  as  a — Heaven  help  him!  —  a 
lawyer  and  a  poet?  Met  Roland  yet?  " 

Mr.  Venable  had  met  him  once  or  twice. 

"  Ever  read  in  history  about  the  Earl  of  Warwick?  "  Mr. 
Parsons  went  on  in  his  hurried  manner ;  and  his  companion 
turned  and  accompanied  him,  saying,  "  Do  you  mean  the 
king-maker  in  the  English  War  of  the  Roses?  " 

"  Yes,  the  man  that  made  kings  out  of  any  thing  he  could 
lay  his  hands  on,  and  who  tried  to  make  them  work,  which 
they  didn't.  Well,"  Mr.  Parsons  continued,  "  Col.  Roland 
did  that  very  thing.  I'm  an  inventor.  Some  day  I  intend 
giving  you  a  ride  along  this  very  beach,  in  a  machine  I  have 
patented.  But  the  colonel  beats  me.  He  invented  a  gov- 
ernor." 

"A  governor?  You  mean,  of  a  steam-engine.  It  con- 
sists of  two  iron  balls  "  — 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense  ! "  the  other  interrupted  Mr.  Venable 
brusquely.  "  He  invented  Gov.  Magruder,  Old  Ugly,  the 
governor  of  our  State.  You've  heard  of  him  ?  Very  good. 
The  way  of  it  was  this  :  Roland  is  a  smart  fellow,  and  very 
ambitious.  He  is  a  fine  speaker,  a  splendid  writer,  has  the 
smoothest  manners  for  ladies  of  any  man  I  know,  but  some- 
how he  can't  get  the  people  to  vote  for  him  ;  or,  if  they  ever 
did,  they  swore  they  never  would  again.  Very  well.  When 
the  colonel  saw  that,  he  looked  about  him,  as  a  man  does 
for  a  lump  of  clay  when  he  is  going  to  make  a  jug.  D'you 
see  ?  That's  the  way  he  picked  up  Magruder.  He  had  just 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  7 1 

come  into  his  father's  big  sugar- plantation,  —  Magruder,  I 
mean,  —  and  no  more  thought  of  being  a  governor  than  of 
being  a  saint,  and  he's  far  enough  from  that!  Well,  Ro- 
land went  to  work,  first  on  him  and  then  for  him.  He  had 
him  nominated  in  caucus,  and  then  in  the  convention.  Of 
course  Magruder  gave  his  money  like  water.  Roland  wrote 
him  up  in  dozens  of  papers,  paid  young  lawyers  and  old 
ones  too  to  stump  the  State  for  him,  got  up  a  cry  about  his 
being  born  on  our  new  soil,  worked  for  him  like  a  beaver 
and  a  fox  rolled  into  one.  Magruder  is  not  able  to  make 
a  speech,  but  he  more  than  made  up  for  that  by  his  popu- 
lar manners,  and  by  shaking  everybody's  hand.  Never  saw 
him?"  To  this  abrupt  question  Mr.  Venable  was  com- 
pelled to  reply  in  the  negative. 

"Well,  I  want  you  to  see  him.  Do  you  know  what  a 
magnet  is?"  Mr.  Parsons  asked. 

"  Certainly,  sir." 

"  No,  you  never  saw  one  in  good  earnest.  Wait  till  you 
see  Magruder.  I  wish  every  preacher,  every  Christian,  was 
like  him;  in  that,  I  mean,  not  in  any  thing  else.  You'll 
understand  what  I  mean  when  you  see  him.  Oh,  well !  be- 
fore Magruder  knew  where  he  was,  his  popular  manners  and 
his  money  had  made  him  governor  of  the  State,  —  under 
Col.  Roland's  engineering,  you  observe.  Of  course  Roland 
was  his  secretary  of  state.  He  wrote  all  his  speeches  and 
state  papers.  His  Excellency's  term  was  out  not  long  ago ; 
and  now  the  colonel  is  working  to  make  him  a  United- 
States  senator,  all  for  his  own  ends.  Time  for  you  to  go 
back,  is  it  ?  Better  go  on  with  me,  and  get  some  breakfast. 
I  want  you  to  see  my  wife  and  our  little  girl,  —  our  little 
Owny  we  call  her.  But  no,"  Mr.  Parsons  added,  in  the  same 
rapid  breath,  "  you  had  better  not,  on  the  whole  :  they  might 
not  expect  you  so  early,  might  not  like  it.  But  you  must 
come  soon.  Good-by.  I  doubt  whether  either  one  of  them 
will  do.  But,"  and  Mr.  Parsons  closed  his  irrelevant  remark 


72  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

with  such  emphasis  as  to  bring  color  to  the  cheeks  of  his 
perplexed  companion,  as  once  before,  "  I  am  sure  that  one 
won't  do  at  all,  at  all !  " 

Old  and  weather-beaten,  odd,  even  grotesque,  as  Mr.  Par- 
sons was,  there  was  such  sincerity  in  his  headlong  manner, 
such  a  kindly  look  in  his  deep-set  eyes,  that  it  was  impos- 
sible not  to  like  him.  But  Mr.  Venable  was  not  afraid,  as 
he  walked  homeward,  of  being  late  for  breakfast.  Things 
proceeded  in  too  leisurely  a  manner  for  that  at  the  luxurious 
table  of  his  indolent  host. 

That  very  evening  he  was  called  down  from  his  room  to 
see  Col.  Roland.  He  found  him  an  unusually  good-looking 
gentleman,  closely  shaved,  fresh- colored,  carefully  dressed, 
with  hands  which  were  very  soft  and  white.  He  spoke  also 
in  low  and  persuasive  tones,  using  a  good  deal  of  gesture 
and  adjective.  Mr.  Venable  took  the  more  interest  in  him, 
having  been  told  that  he  was  a  literary  man.  As  a  general 
thing,  people  in  St.  Jerome  read  little,  he  had  found,  beyond 
the  papers.  Gen.  Buttolph  cared  little  even  for  them,  and 
beyond  his  genial  manner  was  rather  a  dull  companion  when 
sugar-planting  was  not  the  topic. 

When  Col.  Roland  had  shaken  hands  with  Mr.  Venable, 
and  said  a  few  things  in  a  polished  manner,  he  turned  away 
to  the  young  ladies,  whom  he  had  also  asked  to  see.  In 
contrast  with  Mr.  Parsons,  and  in  a  lesser  sense  with  every- 
body else  unless  it  was  Gen.  Buttolph,  the  colonel  was  not 
in  the  slightest  hurry.  Although  a  partisan  editor,  he  gener- 
ally said  his  severest  things  in  such  flowing  language  that  he 
had  been  engaged  in  but  one  duel,  and  not  once  in  a  street- 
fight. 

The  success  of  the  man  evidently  lay  in  his  social  quali- 
ties and  in  his  youthful  appearance,  which,  although  his  hair 
had  been  silvered  for  twenty  years,  left  you  in  doubt  whether 
he  was  sixty  or  thirty;  most  of  all  in  his  devotion  to  the 
ladies,  especially  to  those,  like  the  daughters  of  Gen.  But- 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  73 

tolph,  just  making  their  entrance  into  society.  And  this 
last  was  the  most  remarkable  thing  about  the  colonel.  From 
his  earliest  youth  he  had  been  a  devoted  admirer  of  the 
ladies ;  had  always  been  in  love ;  had  been  engaged  scores 
of  times,  it  was  said,  to  many  girls  when  they  first  came  out ; 
yet,  somehow,  was  a  bachelor  still.  All  this  would  be  incom- 
plete, if  it  were  not  added  that  the  colonel  was  far  more 
popular  with  the  ladies  and  the  little  girls  than  he  was  with 
the  boys  and  the  men  ;  and  all  were  quite  prepared  for  it  now 
when  he  drew  from  his  breast-pocket,  and  read,  a  copy  of 
verses  in  honor  of  the  young  ladies  and  of  their  return  to 
their  native  city ;  the  poetry,  and  the  reading  of  it,  being 
wonderfully  good. 

Mr.  Venable  had  a  really  delightful  evening,  although  only 
as  a  listener  and  looker-on,  for  the  colonel  had  small  refer- 
ence to  him  in  comparison  with  the  ladies.  But  it  was  not 
so  much  in  what  the  colonel  said,  as  he  reclined  somewhat 
languidly  in  an  easy-chair,  toying  with  Miss  Irene's  cologne- 
bottle  which  happened  to  be  on  the  table.  He  had  many 
anecdotes  to  tell  of  the  storm  and  of  the  overflow,  of  the 
leading  men  and  women  of  the  city,  of  books  and  events  of 
all  kinds,  social,  political ;  but  it  was  the  extraordinary  way 
he  drew  out  Miss  Irene  herself,  which  interested  Mr.  Vena- 
ble most.  "  How  charmingly  you  are  dressed,  and  how  very 
charmingly  you  are  looking  !  "  had  been  one  of  the  visitor's 
earliest  remarks  to  the  lady.  He  had  said  the  same  many 
thousand  times  in  other  parlors,  but  it  was  a  fact  in  this  case. 
Since  her  return  home,  Miss  Irene  had  slipped  the  chrysalis 
of  the  school  for  the  butterfly  attire  of  a  young  lady  of 
wealth  and  position,  with  an  energy  which  marked  all  of  her 
ways.  She  was  really  a  beautiful  blonde  ;  but  her  beauty  lay 
chiefly  in  her  brilliancy,  and  the  sparkle  of  her  eye  was  ex- 
ceeded by  the  incessant  speech  of  her  frank  lips. 

The  minister  felt  himself  thrown  very  much  into  the  shade 
as  the  colonel,  by  the  subtle  flattery  of  his  deference  and 


74  A   YEAR  WORTH   LIVING. 

admiring  attentions,  as  well  as  by  ever-varying  suggestions, 
urged  the  young  lady  on.  He  had  flavored  one  of  his  remarks 
with  a  proverb  from  the  French ;  and  she,  as  if  unconscious- 
ly, had  passed  from  her  own  language  into  that,  and  chatted 
on  so  swiftly  and  smilingly  that  her  visitor,  holding  up  a  dep- 
recating hand  as  he  sat,  had  to  acknowledge  his  comparative 
ignorance  of  the  language.  Then,  at  the  request  of  Mr. 
Venable,  watching  his  opportunity,  she  had  seated  herself 
at  the  piano,  and  played  and  sung  in  a  way  which  no  doubt 
astonished  the  excited  girl  herself  only  less  than  it  did  the 
gentlemen.  Italian  opera  was  no  more  familiar  to  her  than 
were  German  Rhine  songs.  One  or  two  of  Beranger's  mel- 
odies were  rendered  in  the  original,  with  as  much  grace  as 
a  little  song  of  the  colonel's  last  composition,  and  dedicated 
to  herself.  Once  or  twice  Mr.  Venable  winced  a  little  at  her 
energy  when  conversation  was  resumed,  she  was  so  very 
decided  in  her  opinions  about  people  and  things. 

"  I  am  afraid  we  will  not  see  Miss  Zeo,"  the  colonel  said 
at  last. 

"  She  said  she  would  come  in  directly,"  Irene  answered. 
"  Excuse  me,  and  I  will  see." 

"You  are  highly  favored,  Mr.  Venable,"  Col.  Roland 
said,  as  she  left  the  room,  "  to  be  the  general's  guest.  Miss 
Irene  will  be,  I  may  say  is  already,  the  belle  of  St.  Jerome. 
One  rarely  meets  a  more  beautiful  and  brilliant  woman. 
With  Miss  Zenobia  I  have  less  acquaintance.  An  excellent 
young  lady,  I  am  told.  Although  younger,  she  seems  to  be 
older  than  her  sister." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  ring  at  the  door,  and  soon 
after  a  laugh  which  rang  more  •  loudly ;  for  Miss  Irene,  in 
returning,  had  found  Mr.  Fanthorp  in  the  hall,  and  they 
entered  the  room  together.  Mr.  Venable  was  introduced  to 
that  gentleman,  and  received  him  with  more  trepidation  than 
curiosity ;  for  of  Mr.  Farce  Fanthorp  he  had  heard  a  good 
deal. 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  75 

He  was  a  small,  thick-set,  swarthy-faced  man,  whom  you 
would  not  look  at  a  second  time  if  you  did  not  know  him, 
and  whom  you  would  not  fail  to  watch  closely  and  curiously 
if  you  did.  The  minister's  eyes  had  happened  to  be  on  him 
the  first  time  Mr.  Fanthorp  attended  church  after  his  arrival. 
Commodore  Grandheur  was  in  the  act  of  passing,  with  his 
peculiar  stateliness,  the  contribution-box  to  that  gentleman, 
who  was  seated  in  a  conspicuous  pew.  As  the  solemn  offi- 
cial held  the  box  before  him,  Mr.  Fanthorp  held  up  his  left 
hand  as  if  for  him  to  wait,  while  with  the  right  hand  he 
searched  every  pocket,  first  upon  one  side  and  then  upon 
the  other,  apparently  for  his  purse.  When  every  face  in  the 
congregation  was  turned  that  way,  the  commodore  coloring 
high  at  the  detention,  Mr.  Fanthorp  gravely  produced,  as 
the  result  of  his  search,  a  bar  of  tobacco,  and  bit  out  a  quid, 
looking  up  at  the  commodore  with  the  face  of  a  babe. 

Col.  Roland  was  too  perfect  a  man  of  the  world  to  show 
it,  or  he  would  have  exhibited  his  aversion  for  Mr.  Fanthorp. 
If  there  was  any  object  for  which  the  colonel  had  both  hatred 
and  apprehension,  it  was  this  small,  solemn-visaged  young 
man.  When  it  is  added  that  Mr.  Fanthorp  was  neatly  but 
plainly  dressed,  and  had  dark  eyes  and  hair  and  scanty  mous- 
tache, all  has  been  said  that  a  photograph,  even,  could 
convey.  Beyond  a  perfect  ease  of  manner,  amounting  to 
assurance,  there  was  nothing  to  object  to  in  this  inoffensive 
gentleman.  Nor  did  he  obtrude  himself  into  the  conversa- 
tion, beyond  a  humorous  remark  or  two,  the  fun  of  which  was 
increased  by  his  peculiar  solemnity.  And  so  the  conver- 
sation flowed  again  as  fluently  as  before,  except  that  Col. 
Roland  had  straightened  himself  up  in  his  chair,  did  not 
refer  to  himself  as  freely  as  he  did  before,  and  seemed  to  be 
more  guarded  in  his  manner.  Leaving  the  others  to  them- 
selves, Mr.  Venable  engaged  in  conversation  with  Mr.  Fan- 
thorp. As  they  did  so  he  became,  on  account  of  the  interest 
the  other  evidently  took  in  all  he  said,  more  interested  him- 


76  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

self  in  the  account  he  gave  of  his  first  impressions  in  regard 
to  St.  Jerome,  the  people,  the  island  generally ;  especially  of 
a  fishing- expedition  upon  which  he  had  gone  in  the  morning 
with  old  Judge  Sefton. 

"I  confess  I  enjoyed  it,"  he  continued  at  last.  "You 
know  that  the  judge  has  nothing  else  to  do  since  he  left  the 
bench,  but  fish.  He  fishes  every  day,  I  believe,  and  all  day. 
He  had  often  asked  me  before  ;  but  we  went  after  breakfast 
to-day  for  the  first  time.  We  had  long  fishing-poles ;  and 
the  judge  showed  me  how,  after  we  had  waded  out  into  the 
sea  up  to  our  waists,  to  bait,  and  throw  out  my  line.  Almost 
as  soon  as  I  did  so,  I  had  a  bite.  I  had  not  fished  since  I 
was  a  boy,  and  was  greatly  excited.  As  it  was  in  the  ocean, 
I  expected  to  catch  something  enormous.  Acting  on  the 
judge's  instructions,  I  put  my  pole  on  my  shoulder,  and  has- 
tened ashore  as  fast  as  I  could.  You  may  imagine  how 
eagerly  I  drew  out  my  line ;  and,  when  I  did,  it  was  only  a 
little  minnow  that  long  !  " 

With  some  gesticulations  Mr.  Venable  tells  the  story. 
Miss  Irene  and  the  colonel  are  listening  by  this  time,  and 
they  all  laugh.  But  why  is  it  that  they  laugh  with  their  eyes 
rather  upon  Mr.  Fanthorp,  to  whom  he  is  speaking,  than 
upon  himself?  And  why  do  they  listen  so  eagerly,  and 
with  such  a  covert  exchange  of  glances,  as  Mr.  Fanthorp 
proceeds,  warming  into  it  as  he  goes  on,  and  with,  at  last,  a 
good  deal  of  gesture,  to  tell  also  of  one  of  his  fishing-ex- 
cursions ?  Mr.  Venable  cannot  wholly  understand  it.  As 
Mr.  Fanthorp  proceeds,  Col.  Roland  and  Irene  Buttolph 
give  way  to  a  measure  of  laughter  beyond  the  fun  of  the 
story,  —  so  far  as  the  minister  can  see,  very  much  so. 

But  he  is  himself  greatly  amused  soon  after.  The  colonel 
had  turned  aside  to  the  lady  to  tell  her  of  a  caucus  meeting 
he  had  lately  attended ;  and  Mr.  Fanthorp,  addressing  him- 
self to  the  colonel  the  instant  the  other  is  through,  told  of 
his  experiences  (and  very  amusing  they  are)  at  the  same 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  77 

meeting.  With  a  wonderful  facility,  the  serious-faced  man 
has  somehow  changed  himself,  as  he  speaks,  into  the  person 
he  speaks  to  !  His  attitude  in  his  chair,  his  tones,  his 
manner  of  toying  with  a  book  as  he  speaks,  the  slightest 
movement  of  hands  and  head  and  foot,  —  to  a  hair's  breadth 
Mr.  Fanthorp  has  become  Col.  Roland,  and  all  with  the 
unaffected  sincerity,  seemingly,  of  a  child.  There  is  some- 
thing exceedingly  impudent,  yet  ludicrous,  in  it.  The  seri- 
ousness of  the  speaker,  and  the  annoyance  of  the  colonel, 
make  it  the  more  amusing. 

Col.  Roland  is  dampened  beyond  his  power  of  recovery, 
and  turns  somewhat  abruptly  to  Mr.  Venable,  while  Mr.  Fan- 
thorp  devotes  himself  to  the  lady.  But  neither  the  clergy- 
man nor  the  colonel  can  enter  fully  into  their  own  conver- 
sation, for  watching,  however  furtively,  the  lively  talk  which 
ensues  between  the  mimic  and  his  hostess.  Miss  Irene  was 
never  more  reckless,  as  if  in  defiance.  And  she  is  evidently  as 
unconscious  as  Mr.  Venable  was  himself:  yet  this  audacious 
visitor  is  imitating  to  her  face  her  every  gesture  and  inflec- 
tion, every  word,  exclamation,  tone,  and  peculiarity.  The 
insolence  of  the  thing  is  almost  forgotten  in  the  subtle 
excellence  of  the  mimicry. 

"  His  imitation  of  me  was  not  the  least  like,  so  far  as  I 
could  see,"  Mr.  Venable  remarks  to  the  colonel,  in  the  end, 
as  they  go  to  the  window  to  look  out  on  the  moonlight :  "  yet 
it  is  remarkable  in  this  case." 

"Nor  does  he  ever  succeed  with  me,"  his  companion 
added.  "  Scoundrel !  And  he  said  he  was  at  that  caucus. 
It  is  a  falsehood.  He  tells  such  lies  every  day  with  the  same 
audacity.  It  is  because  he  is  of  good  family,  that  he  is  en- 
dured. As  to  quarrelling  or  fighting  with  him,  one  would  as 
soon  have  a  difficulty  with  a  monkey.  It  amazes  me  that 
such  a  puppy  is  tolerated.  If  Gen.  Buttolph  had  seen  it 
just  now,  he  would  have  horsewhipped  him." 

But  at  this  moment  the  general  and  Miss  Zeo  came  in,  and 


?8  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

the  conversation  changed.  Who,  however,  looking  upon  the 
father,  so  genial  and  cordial  in  his  placid  hospitality ;  looking 
upon  the  modest  brunette  who  enters  the  room  with  him,  sim- 
ply a  dark,  quiet,  low-spoken  girl,  —  who,  merely  seeing  these 
as  they  took  their  share  of  entertaining  their  company,  could 
have  imagined  all  that  lay  outside  of  that  parlor  and  that 
presence  ?  Something  immeasurably  beyond  any  mimicry 
of  Mr.  Farce  Fanthorp,  in  that ! 

Take  as  a  specimen  the  events  of  that  very  day,  only  one 
of  many.  Mr.  Venable  had  been  greatly  pleased,  as  we  have 
said,  with  the  almost  cherubic  innocence  of  Theodore,  who 
went,  however,  by  no  other  name  than  that  of  Grit,  —  the 
plump  and  quiet-mannered  little  son  of  his  host.  A  more 
beautiful  child  of  ten  or  thereabout,  gentle,  soft  in  eye  and 
voice  and  rounded  cheek,  you  never  saw.  Yet  was  this  an- 
gel really  and  truly  of  the  infernal  sort  instead.  It  was  an 
old  story  of  similar  circumstances.  His  mother  had  died 
two  years  before.  As  soon  as  his  sisters  had  gone  to  their 
school  in  another  State,  the  boy  had  passed  almost  exclu- 
sively into  the  care  of  the  negroes  at  the  sugar-plantation  up 
country,  and  on  the  place  of  his  father  in  St.  Jerome.  True, 
when  in  the  city  he  was  a  favorite  scholar  of  Miss  Aurelia 
Jones  in  sabbath  school.  That  warm-hearted  lady  loved, 
fondled,  and  made  much  of  her  "  darling  little  dumpling," 
as  she  called  him.  Nor  was  he  without  due  teaching  during 
the  week.  But,  in  city  and  country,  almost  all  of  his  life 
was  spent  with  the  slaves.  From  his  birth  his  will  was  law 
among  these.  It  was  impossible  he  should  not  have  grown 
up  the  abominable  little  Nero  he  was,  —  self-willed,  passion- 
ate, cruel,  lying,  impure,  foul  in  word  and  inmost  heart,  be- 
yond license  of  description  in  these  pages. 

That  day,  merely  as  an  instance,  his  pony  had  been  locked 
up  from  him,  by  order  of  his  father,  for  some  one  of  his 
many  offences.  The  moment  the  general  had  left  the  place, 
he  had  seized  an  axe,  and  began  to  hew  at  the  door  of  the 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  79 

stable.  In  vain  old  Plenty  and  young  Plenty  and  aunt 
Plenty  had  tried  to  persuade,  to  threaten,  to  bribe.  They 
dared  not  lay  hands  on  the  boy.  He  would  have  struck 
them  with  the  axe,  bitten  them,  killed  them  if  he  could. 
Some  devil  seemed  to  enter  him  as  he  chopped  furiously 
away.  His  sister  Irene  had  tried  her  powers,  but  he  had 
turned  upon  her  with  such  a  torrent  of  foul  language  that 
she  had  fled  to  the  house ;  and  she  as  well  as  the  rest  gave 
it  up  until  "  Miss  Zeo "  should  return  from  market,  to 
which  she  had  been  driven  in  the  buggy  by  one  of  the  negro 
men ;  having,  for  excellent  reasons,  taken  that  duty  on  her- 
self since  she  had  come  back.  As.  she  drove  into  the  yard, 
the  young  savage  had  forced  an  entrance  into  the  stable, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  leading  his  pony  out.  It  was  far  from 
being  the  first  occasion  of  the  kind,  and  the  whole  aspect 
of  the  girl  altered  as  she  advanced  upon  him.  No  one  sug- 
gested that  she  should  wait  until  the  general  came  back. 
There  were,  alas  !  reasons  why  the  boy  should  not  be  left 
until  then.  She  must  master  him,  and  as  rapidly  as  possi- 
ble, before  the  arrival  of  her  father. 

"  Theodore,  dear  Theo,  please,"  she  began  as  she  went 
up  to  him.  But  her  approach  was  repaid  with  a  scowl  and 
a  vicious  kick.  "  Grit,  Gritty,  Clear  Grit,"  she  endeavored, 
"  you  will  for  me,  for  Zeo ; "  and  nothing  could  be  more 
winning,  humble  even,  than  the  attitude  and  persuasions  of 
the  girl,  her  eyes  seeking,  but  in  vain,  to  catch  those  of  the 
infant  desperado,  as  he  stood  with  one  foot  in  the  stirrup  of 
his  pony's  saddle.  "Dear brother  ! "  and  she  laid  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder.  But  he  had  planned  in  reference  to  her  as 
well  as  the  others,  knowing  her  by  this  time  fully  as  well  as 
he  knew  the  remainder  of  the  household.  On  the  instant 
he  struck  her  full  in  the  face  with  his  whip,  and  opened 
upon  her  a  torrent  of  the  language  heard  from  infancy  on 
the  sugar-plantation.  The  poor  girl  turned  pale,  and  glanced 
up.  Suppose  Mr.  Venable  should  hear?  But  no ;  his  room 


8O  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

was  on  the  other  side  of  the  house.  Besides,  he  was  obliv- 
ious just  then,  in  the  preparation  of  the  closing  sentences  of 
his  next  Sunday's  sermon.  She  understood  the  emergency 
better  than  any  one.  Irene  is  taller  and  stronger ;  but  on 
the  instant  she  has  taken  the  young  savage  in  her  arms,  torn 
him  from  his  pony,  and,  one  hand  upon  his  mouth,  summon- 
ing the  servants  to  her  assistance,  she  bore  him,  kicking 
and  struggling,  into  the  stable,  through  the  demolished  door, 
into  an  inner  room  there,  tied  her  veil  firmly  over  his  mouth 
to  stop  his  paroxysm  of  foul  language,  and  held  him  there, 
with  a  white  face  but  a  grasp  of  iron,  until  he  subsides  from 
sheer  exhaustion.  It  takes  a  long  time  to  conquer  him,  and 
she  does  it  alone ;  but  at  last,  hours  after,  she  has  the  thor- 
oughly spoiled  boy  in  bed  in  her  own  room,  asleep,  the  door 
locked  upon  them.  Her  task  has  been  a  terrible  one  ;  but, 
alas  !  bad  as  her  brother  is,  he  is  the  smallest  part  of  her 
troubles. 

She  rises  from  his  bedside  at  last,  bathes  her  face,  arranges 
her  dress,  smoothes  her  disordered  hair,  eats  a  little  of  the 
meal  that  has  been  brought  to  the  room  for  her  brother  — 
the  scraps  that  he  has  left.  Then  she  looks  around,  pulls 
down  the  curtain  a  little  more,  sees  that  the  door  is  indeed 
locked,  reads  mechanically  a  verse  or  two  from  her  little 
Bible,  and  sinks  upon  her  knees  beside  her  brother,  utterly 
worn  out. 

"  Help  !  "  she  murmurs  in  disconnected  prayer.     "  I  am 

—  but  as  a  child  —  Help  !  —  for  the  things  that  are  so  much 

—  worse  —  so  much  worse  than  my  brother  !  O  my  Saviour  ! 

—  It  is  more  than  —  a  girl  —  can  do.     Oh,  my  poor,  poor  — 
father!    Lord  —  I  don't  understand  —  money  —  only  a  girl 
as  yet.     And  —  a  woman  too  —  Lord,  is  it  what  a  woman 

—  a  girl  should  know  ?  "  and,  as  she  murmured  it,  her  face 
rested  on  the   bed,  her  neck,  her  very  hands,  clasped   in 
supplication,  crimson  with  shame,  —  a  shame  that  burns  and 
hurts,  a  fire  rather  which  scorches.     "  O  my  Saviour  !  —  oh 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  8 1 

my  poor  papa  !  —  O  Christ,  it  is  so  terrible  —  and  so  horri- 
ble!" She  shudders  as  she  kneels;  her  head  sinks,  from 
sheer  exhaustion,  upon  the  bed ;  for  her  contest  with  Grit 
began  early  in  the  day,  and  it  is  now  late  in  the  afternoon. 

It  was  her  weariness  from  this  which  had  detained  her 
from  coming  that  evening  into  the  parlor  to  aid  in  enter- 
taining Col.  Roland  and  Mr.  Fanthorp.  But  she  had  not 
mentioned  the  matter  to  her  father  when  he  returned  to  the 
house.  As  to  Miss  Irene,  when  she  had  fled  from  the  vio- 
lence of  her  brother  it  had  been  to  her  piano,  at  which  she 
had  played  long  and  loud  in  order  to  drown  any  sounds  of 
the  strife  ;  when  she  tired  of  that,  she  had  read  a  novel,  taken 
a  nap,  and  then  dressed  for  the  evening :  so  that  she  was 
quite  ready  to  entertain  and  be  entertained. 

"Is  it  not  remarkable,"  Col.  Roland  demanded  of  Mr. 
Venable  that  evening,  when  the  two  had  gone  to  the  other 
side  of  the  parlor  to  examine  a  painting  upon  the  walls, 
leaving  Mr.  Fanthorp  for  the  moment  in  conversation  with 
the  ladies,  —  "  is  it  not  really  wonderful  that  these  sisters 
should  be  so  unlike?  Miss  Irene  is  full  of  life  and  soul. 
As  you  say,  she  is  as  intelligent  as  she  is  beautiful,  and  how 
accomplished  she  is  !  It  is  a  pity  that  Miss  Zeo  is  so  quiet. 
Did  you  observe  it  ?  she  seems  to  have  hurt  her  face  in  some 
way." 

Irene  Buttolph  had  made  a  deep  impression  upon  both 
of  them.  "  She  is  a  splendid  girl,"  Col.  Roland  said  to 
himself  as  he  drew  off  his  coat  that  night  on  going  to  bed ; 
"  and  really  I  must  marry  some  day.  I  will  engage  myself 
to  her  as  soon  as  it  is  possible  to  do  so,  and  this  time  I  will 
marry.  Especially  as  the  governor  agrees  with  me,  that  he 
cannot  possibly  do  better  than  to  take  Miss  Zenobia.  She 
is  extremely  quiet,  and  will  gladly  accept  him.  If  he  is  a 
fool,  she  will  never  know  it.  An  alliance  with  a  man  like 
Gen.  Buttolph  will  help  us  in  regard  to  the  senate ;  and,  be- 
ing brothers-in-law?  Old  Ugly  will  be  an  amazing  help  to  me 


82  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

when  he  gets  there.  It  is  the  best  plan  I  have  ever  laid." 
By  a  remarkable  coincidence  Mr.  Venable  was  saying  to 
himself  in  his  room  at  the  same  moment,  "  It  is  a  wonder 
I  could  have  thought  of  comparing  the  two  sisters.  Miss 
Irene  may  be  a  charming  lady  in  her  dashing  way,  but  how 
inferior,  although  I  wish  I  thoroughly  knew  why,  to  Miss  Zeo  ! 
What  could  Mr.  Parsons  have  meant  when  he  said, '  Not  that 
one  particularly  ? '  My  health  must  be  growing  vigorous  very 
rapidly ;  or  is  it  this  impulsive  climate  ?  What  a  beautiful 
girl  it  was  who  opened  the  door  to  me  at  Mrs.  Chaffingsby's  ! 
I  wish  I  had  gone  in.  Such  beauty  is  too  great  to  be  real. 
As  soon  as  I  can  I  will  go  there  again,  purely  from  curiosity, 
though  I  am  a  fool  to  think  of  such  things  so  soon.  But  next 
to  my  work,  I'll  try  to  know  that  dark  and  silent  girl.  I 
wish  I  could  see  as  much  of  her  as  I  do  of  her  sister ;  and 
I  wish  she  would  say  more  to  me,  or  that  I  could  say  more 
to  her.  Above  all,  I  wish  I  could  find  out  in  what  her  power 
lies.  There  is  one  comfort :  neither  Col.  Roland,  even  if 
he  were  young  enough,  much  less  Mr.  Fanthorp,  —  nobody, 
in  fact, — would  dare  to  make  love  to  her.  Some  day  — 
some  day  "  —  At  the  same  hour  the  lady  spoken  of  was 
bending  over  her  brother.  He  had  eaten  a  hearty  supper, 
and  had  gone  to  sleep  again,  a  slumbering  St.  John  in 
childhood  as  he  lay,  so  innocent  he  seemed.  She  stooped 
down  and  kissed  him,  though  not  upon  the  lips. 
"As  God  shall  help  me,  I  will"  she  said. 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  83 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IN  WHICH  WE  BID  GOOD-BY   FOR  A  TIME,   TO  THINGS  INFERIOR, 
AND  ASCEND   INTO  THE   REALM   OF  ART. 

TO  insure  access  next  time  at  Capt.  Chaffin's  house, 
Mr.  Venable  had  written  to  say  how  much  he  had 
regretted  not  finding  the  family  at  home  before,  and  beg- 
ging to  know  when  it  would  be  convenient  to  them  to  see 
him.  A  prompt  reply  came  in  the  person  of  the  captain 
himself.  Mr.  Venable  went  down  into  the  parlor  to  find 
that  seaman  seated,  very  uncomfortably,  in  one  of  the  chairs, 
his  head  seeming  all  the  harder  by  reason  of  the  closely- 
cropped  hair,  the  beard  and  moustache  as  wooden  as  the 
rest  of  the  walnut-hued  countenance.  The  captain  pre- 
ferred to  retain  his  low-crowned  and  glazed  hat ;  and  it  lay, 
crown  uppermost,  upon  his  knees,  which  were  drawn  close 
together,  his  hands  resting  upon  the  top  of  his  hat,  the  balls 
of  his  lumpy  thumbs  pressed  together  as  if  in  argument. 

"She  begs  me  to  present  her  compliments,"  he  said, 
projecting  the  upper  part  of  his  person  farther  forward  as  he 
sat,  and  as  if  repeating  a  message  committed  to  memory. 
"  Also  she  will  be  pleased  to  see  Mr.  Venable  —  of  course 
she  means  you  —  at  four  o'clock  to-morrow  afternoon,  if 
the  hour  be  agreeable  to  Mr.  Venable  —  you  she  means." 

"  I  will  come  with  pleasure,"  said  the  other. 

"  I  would  come  and  show  you  the  way,"  the  captain 
added  less  mechanically,  and  as  if  with  a  load  off  his  mind ; 
"  but  I  leave  by  light  with  Mr.  Parsons,  —  Ezra  Micajah." 


84  A    YEAR    WORTH    DIVING. 

"  For  Hacamac?  "  Mr.  Venable  inquired. 

"  No,  not  this  time,"  the  other  replied,  each  sentence  to 
itself,  as  if  it  were  a  rope  given  out  from  his  hand  coil  by 
coil.  "  Hacamac  is  only  one.  He  has  one  thousand  things 
on  hand.  This  is  a  steamboat.  No  paddle-boxes.  Nary 
screw.  It  has  a  belt  with  paddle-boards  on  it  all  along,  one 
to  every  two  feet.  The  belt  is  driven  along  deck  from  the 
stern,  over  the  bow  into  the  water,  all  along  under  the  keel, 
up  out  of  the  water  at  the  helm,  up  and  along  the  deck  and 
down  over  the  bow  again,  and  so  on  for  ever  and  ever. 
It's  Mr.  Parsons's  idea.  He  invents :  I  apply.  A  dead 
failure.  Not  the  first.  Nor  the  last.  I  know  it  now.  He 
will  know  it  by  night.  Not  a  better  man  alive.  If  his 
smartness,"  Capt.  Chaffin  added  after  consideration,  "  could 
get  down  the  companion-way  into  his  hold,  —  his  heart  I 
mean,  —  and  his  goodness  could  climb  up  from  his  heart 
into  his  head,  you  see.  But  it  is  a  singular  world.  Here 
on  the  island  especially.  I'm  a  silent  man,  myself;  that  is, 
away  from  St.  Jerome.  It's  in  the  air,  which  is  like  brandy. 
You  talk  just  to  talk.  There's  my  wife.  Before  she  came 
here  she  no  more  dreamed  she  had  any  talent  than  you  do. 
Nor  then,  until  that  long-haired  artist  man,  that  taught  her 
how  to  paint,  died  at  our  house.  Be  gentle-like  when  you 
call,"  he  added,  rising  to  go.  "  She  is  all  nerves.  All  over 
her  they  are,  like  ropes  to  a  ship.  Don't  express  your 
admiration  too  strong."  And  the  captain  departed  the 
instant  his  errand  was  done,  having  the  mechanical  precision 
of  an  engine  in  that  as  in  every  thing  else. 

When  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  opened  the  door  to  Mr.  Venable 
at  the  set  time,  she  was  the  very  person  he  had  expected  to 
see,  from  the  much  that  had  been  said  to  him  of  her ;  only, 
if  the  phrase  may  be  allowed,  more  so.  He  had  not  sup- 
posed that  a  woman  could  be  so  small  and  light  and  slight, 
and  yet  be  a  wife  and  a  mother.  She  had  an  old  and  care- 
worn face ;  and  yet  it  was  one  which  was  singularly  childish 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  85 

and  almost  sweet,  with  an  unusual  abundance  of  light-col- 
ored hair  disposed  in  curls  about  her  head,  before  and 
behind. 

"  I  mentioned  four  o'clock,"  she  said,  as  she  welcomed 
him  into  the  house,  and  took  his  hat  by  the  edges  of  its 
brim  with  only  the  points  of  the  fingers  of  a  hand  on  either 
side,  and  as  if  it  were  full  of  water,  and  stood  it  on  a  table, 
"  because  you  would  then  have  had  your  nap."  She  al- 
luded to  the  custom,  as  universal  in  that  latitude  as  dinner, 
of  the  siesta  after  that  meal.  "  I  hoped  to  have  had  mine, 
but  I  could  not  sleep.  The  least  excitement,  you  know  "  — 
And  she  lifted  a  hand,  which  he  saw  had  more  than  one 
diamond  upon  it,  to  her  forehead.  In  her  dress,  as  in  her 
voice  and  movement,  there  was  something  as  of  a  large 
doll ;  no,  rather  of  a  good  little  girl  dressed  for  a  child's 
party,  —  a  perplexing  blending  of  the  two  with  the  woman 
of  forty  years  or  more,  which  puzzled  her  visitor.  There 
was  a  curious  intermixture  in  her,  not  merely  of  woman  and 
child,  but  of  the  natural  and  the  artificial  also,  which  was, 
however,  not  more  bewildering  to  any  other  than  it  was  to 
herself. 

"  Capt.  Chaffin  called,"  began  her  visitor,  as  she  went 
before  him  with  a  springing  step,  opening  a  door  leading  to 
one  side  from  the  hall,  and  motioning  him  to  enter. 

"  Capt.  Chaffingsby,  if  you  please,"  she  corrected  him, 
with  a  smile.  "  We  always  prefer  that  appellation.  Walk 
in,  if  you  will  be  so  good ;  "  and  he  did  so,  avoiding  any 
steady  look  at  certain  pictures  with  which  the  hall  was 
adorned.  For  the  same  reason  he  confined  his  eyes  to  the 
face  of  the  lady  during  the  opening  conversation  which  en- 
sued. 

"  I  have  had  the  great  pleasure,"  she  said  at  last,  dispos- 
ing her  arms  across  each  other  on  her  lap,  as  she  sat,  ap- 
parently, on  the  extreme  edge  of  her  chair,  "  of  hearing  you 
several  times.  I  dare  not  adventure  myself  too  often.  Any 


86  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

sentiment  heard  from  the  pulpit  too  striking,  or  too  strongly, 
expressed,  seriously  affects  me.  I  bear  it  home  like  a  blow, 
and  it  prevents  my  sleeping.  The  same  of  the  singing,  if 
there  should  be  any  discord,  or  if  it  should  be  too  emo- 
tional. So  of  the  supplications.  Too  great  a  degree  of 
fervor  is  what  I  am  compelled  to  avoid  exposure  to,  as  I 
would  typhoid-fever,  so  sensitive  am  I  to  all  contagion,  so 
exceedingly  sensitive,"  she  added  with  a  shiver,  and  contin- 
ued, "  My  nerves  are  tense,  because  of  the  unceasing  strain 
upon  them  of  my  art.  Yes,  I  am  very,  very  sympathetic. 
I  regret  about  the  Wednesday-evening  meetings.  Once, 
when  there,  Mr.  Quatty  succeeded  in  speaking.  As  you 
may  suppose,  I  could  neither  sleep,  nor  partake  of  my  food, 
for  many  days.  It  is  very,  very  foolish,  but  can  I  help  it?  " 
And  through  all  her  affectation  as  of  a  smiling  Frenchwo- 
man, there  was  none  the  less  the  sincerity  of  a  child. 

"  Capt.  Chaf —  Your  husband  seems  of  a  vigorous  con- 
stitution. I  envy  him  his  strength,"  her  guest  replied. 

"  You  are  right.  He  is  as  the  rugged  oak  braving,  in  this 
case  literally,  the  elemental  strife,"  she  said  ;  "as  the  sturdy 
oak  to  which  I  am  the  frail  and  clinging  vine.  I  am  exces- 
sively nervous,  and  he  is  very  considerate.  Nature,  which  so 
wonderfully  harmonizes  its  colors  in  earth  and  sea  and  sky, 
has  attuned  us  also,  each  to  the  other.  My  husband  is  a 
noble  man,"  she  added,  all  affectation  gone  from  the  wife 
for  the  moment.  "  Like  all  seamen,  he  is  fond  of  tobacco  : 
yet  has  he  wholly  ceased  to  smoke,  and  is  daily  reducing  his 
quid.  No  man  more  fond  of  his  grog ;  in  moderation,  I 
mean.  For  my  sake  he  never  tastes  liquor  now,  even  when 
most  exposed.  The  least  odor,"  and  the  lady  closed  her 
eyes  with  a  shudder,  "  kills  me." 

Upon  this,  Mr.  Venable,  postponing  his  amusement  until 
he  has  left  the  house,  tells  her  of  the  like  sensitiveness  as 
related  of  Queen  Elizabeth ;  does  so  at  some  length,  to  get 
himself  the  readier  for  what  he  knows  is  coming.  The  lady 
listens,  pleased,  but  a  little  impatient. 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  87 

"These  are  a  few  of  my  poor  endeavors,"  she  says  at  last, 
lifting  a  hand  toward  the  wall.  "  Possibly  you  may  have 
heard  of  them." 

Mr.  Venable  had  heard  of  them.  Not  from  her  husband 
alone  :  every  person  he  had  met  had  spoken  to  him  about 
Mrs.  Chaffingsby,  and  in  the  same  way,  Mr.  Nogens  ex- 
cepted.  He  had  experimented  upon  Mr.  Nogens  with  the 
name  of  the  lady.  Listening  seriously  to  all  that  he  had 
asked  about  Mrs.  Chaffingsby,  Mr.  Nogens  had  felt  with  his 
finger  to  see  if  the  curl  on  his  forehead  was  all  right,  and 
said,  "Yes?"  but  that  was  all. 

The  visitor  drew  in  a  long  breath  as  for  a  dive,  or  rather 
for  an  ascent  into  regions  too  ethereal  for  common  breath- 
ing, and  looked  up.  The  other  arose,  and  explained  before 
a  life-size  painting  upon  the  wall,  in  which  yellow  drapery 
largely  predominated,  — 

"  Judas,  as  you  will  perceive.  You  will  observe  the  bag 
of  money.  I  flatter  myself  on  the  firmness  of  his  clutch 
upon  it.  Please  remark  how  rapidly  he  is  moving ;  as  also 
how  his  mantle  flies  away  from  him  behind  as  he  leans  ea- 
gerly forward.  He  is  on  his  way,  having  just  received  his 
money.  I  pride  myself  somewhat  upon  his  desperate  hur- 
ry. I  derived  ideas  of  that  from  Mr.  Parsons ;  also  upon 
the  gluttonous  greed  of  his  eyes ;  "  and  the  artist  stepped 
aside  to  allow  her  guest  a  full  view,  her  eager  gaze  fastened 
upon  his  countenance.  "  I  gave  him,"  she  added,  "  all  the 
yellow  I  could,  his  garments  as  well  as  his  hair  and  beard, 
because  it  is  the  color  I  detest.  A  horrible  object,  is  he 
not?"  she  asked  proudly. 

"  He  is,  indeed  !  "  her  visitor  said ;  for  all  the  warning  he 
had  received  hardly  prepared  him  for  the  shock.  A  more 
abominable  daub,  a  more  absurd  caricature  upon  Judas, 
could  not  be  imagined.  But  in  every  wreck  there  is  some 
splinter  to  which  we  can  cling.  The  other  laid  hold,  so  to 
speak,  upon  the  eyes  of  the  wretched  piece  of  work,  and 
sustained  himself  for  the  moment. 


88  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"  The  eyes  are  wonderfully  well  done,"  he  said,  as  soon  as 
he  could  :  "  wonderfully  well,"  he  repeated  after  a  while,  and 
more  composedly;  and  he  told  the  truth.  Every  law  of 
outline,  anatomy,  light,  shade,  color,  every  thing,  had  been 
outraged  in  the  painting ;  but  amid  the  chaos,  the  eyes  were 
admirable. 

"  Every  one  says  the  same,"  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  replied 
somewhat  peevishly.  "My  husband  may  have  told  you," 
she  added,  while  the  other  gazed  silently  upon  the  traitor, 
"  of  the  artist  who  was  with  us.  He  came  here,  a  consump- 
tive, for  the  sake  of  our  climate.  It  happened  that  he  sailed 
over  with  my  husband  on  the  same  steamer,  and  was  so  low 
that  they  refused  to  take  him  at  the  hotels,  on  the  plea  that 
they  did  not  have  (which  was  true)  a  fireplace  in  the  house 
except  in  the  kitchen.  They  knew  that  he  would  die  on 
their  hands.  I  was  not  so  nervous  then.  In  fact,  I  was  not 
nervous  at  all,  until  I  began  to  paint ;  and  I  consented  to 
take  him  in.  He  grew  better,  and  remained  in  our  house 
for  many  months.  He  was  poor,  and  we  would  take  no 
compensation.  To  gratify  him,  I  took  lessons  instead.  He 
objected,  but  I  insisted  on  beginning  with  learning  how  to 
paint  the  eyes.  When  a  girl,  I  was  told  that  the  little  trans- 
parent bulb  in  the  egg  was  the  rudiment  of  the  eye  of  the 
future  chicken ;  and  I  insisted,"  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  said  with 
increasing  eagerness,  "  in  beginning  where  nature  began. 
We  gave  months  to  it.  Before  we  had  fairly  begun  at  any 
thing  else,  he  died ;  but  he  left  us  his  sketches,  his  paints, 
and  implements  and  books.  Moreover,  I  had  acquired  a  pas- 
sion for  art,  for  high  art.  I  painted  from  morning  until  night. 
I  often  arose  during  the  silent  hours  of  darkness,  to  resume 
my  brush.  Could  I  sleep,  think  you,  with  a  picture  like  this 
of  the  vile  betrayer  upon  my  mind  ?  No,  sir.  I  poured  my 
abhorrence  and  hatred  of  the  wretch  upon  the  canvas. 
Every  nerve  was  strung.  I  could  not  eat.  My  husband 
was  far  away  upon  the  deep.  If  I  could  but  render  Judas 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  89 

more  an  object  of  scorn  and  contempt  than  mortal  had 
ever  imagined  him,  I  would  be  satisfied.  My  religion  con- 
spired with  my  talent :  true,  my  digestion  was  destroyed,  I 
fear  forever;  but  no  one,"  the  little  woman  added  with 
fervor,  "  can,  I  flatter  myself,  look  upon  this  picture  without 
emotion.  You  despise  Judas,  Mr.  Venable,  despise  the 
wretch  more  from  this  hour  than  you  ever  did  before  !  But 
we  have  merely  begun ;  be  so  good  as  to  accompany  me." 
And  his  hostess  had  wrought  herself  into  such  a  state  of 
excitement  as  to  be  almost  oblivious  to  any  thing  the  other 
might  say,  or  fail  to  say  —  happily  for  him. 

The  whole  house  was  crowded  with  Mrs.  Chaffingsby's 
productions.  Hardly  a  hero  or  a  heroine  of  Scripture  had 
been  neglected ;  and  every  one  was  but  a  renewal  of  the 
false  apostle,  with  small  alteration,  each  worse  than  the  one 
before,  of  attitude,  drapery,  color,  and  the  like.  There 
was  a  certain  earnest  purpose  in  all,  a  violence  with  which 
Peter  drew  his  net  and  Paul  preached,  which  betrayed  the 
ardent  soul  of  the  artist.  It  was  as  if  the  dumb  were 
struggling  desperately  to  speak.  The  visitor  felt  at  each  step 
that  if  Irene  Buttolph  had  been  with  him  she  would  have 
screamed  with  laughter ;  and  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  con- 
trol himself  as  his  attention  was  called  to  a  Magdalen 
weeping,  a  Pharisee  denouncing,  a  Sadducee  ridiculing,  a 
Herod  scowling,  a  Pilate  protesting,  and  a  Peter  denying,  each 
with  his  garment  falling  off,  his  hair  blowing  away,  his  legs, 
arms,  and  fingers  extended  in  a  hurricane  of  vehemence. 
Once  the  visitor  thought  he  must  yield  to  the  energy  with 
which  an  angel  was  singing,  its  head  thrown  back,  its  mouth 
open,  the  hands  smiting  the  wires  of  a  harp  as  if  for  life ; 
but  the  enthusiasm  of  the  excited  creator  of  the  abortions, 
as  she  explained  each  in  turn,  so  satisfied  him  of  at  least 
the  purity  and  intensity  of  her  purpose,  that  the  smile  died 
in  his  heart  as  well  as  upon  his  lips.  One  thing  he  had 
shrunk  from,  but  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  had  anticipated  him,  her 


9O  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

piety  being  stronger  even  than  her  art;  and  the  face  of 
Christ  was  invariably  hidden  by  some  object  or  person,  in 
whatever  scene  he  appeared.  Moreover,  in  every  case,  the 
eyes  were  spots  of  excellence,  the  more  striking  amid  a 
wilderness  of  absurdity. 

"  And  that,  as  you  observe,"  she  said,  after  they  had  gone 
through  room  after  room,  up  stairs  and  down,  "  that  is  Mary 
lamenting  over  Lazarus.  See  how  bitter  is  her  anguish. 
When  I  was  at  work  on  that,  my  tears  were  streaming  day 
and  night ;  I  was  utterly  exhausted  with  weeping,  myself. 
My  art,  sir,  is  consuming  me  ! "  She  turned  as  she  spoke ; 
and  her  visitor  looked  at  her  with  new  respect,  she  was  so, 
so  frail,  with  a  hectic  glow  in  her  cheeks.  All  the  affectation 
of  her  manner  had  disappeared,  melted  away  in  the  fervor 
of  her  enthusiasm.  "  The  artist,"  she  said,  "  told  me  that  I 
really  had  talent.  But  he  always  added,  '  You  will  have  to 
study  hard  for  many  years,  and  see  other  works  of  art.'  I 
do  not  think  so,"  she  continued  with  energy ;  "  when  one  is 
determined  to  create,  when  you  give  your  whole  soul  to 
your  effort,  it  supersedes  all  else.  You  think  so,  do  you  not 
Mr.  Venable?" 

"  Excuse  me,  but  I  do  not  see  Martha,"  was  his  polite 
evasion.  "  Mary  and  Martha,  you  know,"  with  a  bow. 

"  I  have  a  profound  contempt  for  Martha,"  she  hastened 
to  explain.  "  Of  course  it  is  not  the  detestation  I  have 
scorched  upon  the  canvas  of  Judas ;  yet,  while  Mary  was  full 
of  feeling,  her  sister  was  totally  devoid  of  it.  You  recall  her 
remark  to  Christ  in  reference  to  the  decomposition  of  her 
dead  brother.  She  was  a  coarse  woman,  low  and  sordid 
in  her  occupations.  "  I  have  left  unpainted,"  she  added. 
"  hardly  an  heroic  character  in  my  knowledge.  Martha, 
however,  I  have  placed  where  she  belongs,  in  my  kitchen. 
Since  you  insist  upon  seeing  her,  please  follow  me  ;  "  and  the 
artist  led  the  way,  walking  in  a  delicate  manner  upon  her 
tiptoes,  her  usual  gait,  as  if  in  danger  of  disturbing  some 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  9 1 

sleeping  invalid.  Down  stairs  they  went,  and  through  rooms 
and  passages  lined  with  her  productions,  which  she  merely 
indicated  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  as  she  passed,  and 
a  word. 

"  St.  John  in  Patmos,  you  observe.  Alexander  and  Clitus. 
Solomon  in  the  plenitude  of  his  glory.  Judith  and  Holo- 
fernes.  This  is  Pilate;  and  I  would  like  to  point  out  to 
you  the  Roman  arrogance  of  his  aspect,  if  we  had  time. 
David,  you  observe  :  I  would  dearly  love  to  have  you  conjec- 
ture which  of  his  psalms  he  was  singing,  but  I  am  nearly 
exhausted." 

Mr.  Venable  glanced  at  the  royal  singer  tearing  open- 
mouthed  at  his  harp  with  vigor,  and,  with  a  polite  but  in- 
articulate murmur,  hastened  after  his  guide. 

"  This  is  our  kitchen,"  she  said  at  last,  throwing  a  door 
open.  "  O  Clara  !  "  she  added,  in  the  same  breath  :  "  my 
poor  nerves  !  I  had  utterly  forgotten  !  "  For  there  stood 
the  young  girl  whom  the  visitor  had  seen  before,  in  kitchen 
undress,  evidently  taken  by  surprise.  The  instant  she  saw 
him,  she  had  turned,  and,  as  with  a  movement  familiarized 
to  her  by  long  use,  had  placed  her  hands  upon  the  shoul- 
ders of  a  boy  larger  than  herself,  and  had  pushed  him  before 
her,  and  out  of  a  side  door.  Mr.  Venable  had  lingered 
politely  upon  the  threshold  before  entering ;  but  one  glance 
at  the  boy  was  enough.  There  was  the  negligent  dress,  the 
conical  head,  the  loose  lips,  the  unmeaning  stare,  of  an  idiot. 
The  shrill  laugh  from  the  other  side  of  the  door,  as  it  closed, 
was  not  needed  to  confirm  that. 

As  she  shut  the  door,  the  girl  turned  and  came  back. 
Her  dress,  though  plain  to  the  last  degree,  was  clean.  The 
disorder  of  her  hair  but  added  to  the  charm  of  her  perfect 
face  and  heavenly  eyes. 

"  Clara,  my  dear,  this  is  Mr.  Venable ;  and  now  go  to 
Charlie,"  her  mother  said  ;  and  the  girl  acknowledged  their 
visitor  with  a  hand  extended  like  that  of  a  little  child,  and, 


Q2  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

as  on  the  former  occasion,  the  brightest  and  sweetest  smile 
he  had  ever  imagined.  "  How  is  it  possible,"  he  kept  say- 
ing to  himself,  as  she  left  the  room,  "  that,  with  such  a  model 
of  all  loveliness  continually  before  her,  this  woman  could 
paint  these  atrocious  daubs  ?  Ah  !  but  here  is  the  secret  of 
those  wonderful  eyes ;  "  and  he  saw  nothing  of  the  Martha 
upon  the  wall,  except  that  the  artist  had  succeeded  in  mak- 
ing it,  in  her  aversion,  almost  as  bad  as  the  Judas.  He 
hardly  heard  any  thing  of  all  that  she  said.  The  contrast  of 
every  thing  with  this  miracle  of  beauty  was  too  great  and 
sudden,  although  he  had  been  hoping  and  listening  in  ex- 
pectation of  meeting  her,  from  the  moment  he  entered  the 
house. 

Nor  did  he  breathe  freely  until,  after  parting  with  the 
artist,  he  had  left  the  building,  and  was  unlatching  the  front 
gate.  As  he  did  so,  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  opened  her  door,  and 
called  to  him,  beckoning  with  her  hand. 

"I  am  exhausted,"  she  said,  when  he  returned  to  find  her 
sunk  into  a  sofa  in  the  parlor,  Judas  clutching  his  bag  and 
flying  with  insane  speed  over  her  head.  "  Please  hand  me 
that  fan ;  as  also  that  smelling-bottle.  Wait  until  I  recover 
myself.  In  the  instant  of  your  leaving,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I 
have  had  an  inspiration.  They  always  come  in  my  mo- 
ments of  almost  death.  I  will  not  be  able  to  eat  nor  sleep 
for,  it  may  be,  days.  But,"  added  she,  in  a  quiver  of  ex- 
citement, "  I  find  I  am  too  agitated  to  tell  you  now.  It  is 
an  inspiration.  You  may  be  able  to  prepare  yourself  for 
what  I  intend,  when  I  mention  to  you,  as  a  clew,  the  names 
of  Rubens  and  Titian.  But  I  am  unable  to  explain  to  you 
now.  The  conception  shakes  me  like  an  ague.  Besides,  it 
will  astonish  you  greatly.  I  will  let  you  know  in  time. 
Good-by."  And,  once  more  taking  a  respectful  leave  of 
her,  Mr.  Venable  departed. 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  93 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MR.    VENABLE   MAKES   THE   ACQUAINTANCE   OF   HIS   EXCELLENCY 
"  OLD   UGLY." 

ONE  morning  some  weeks  after  his  visit  to  Mrs.  Chaf- 
fingsby's,  Mr.  Venable  came  landward  again  from  the 
boundlessness  of  sleep,  upon  the  sound,  as  usual,  of  the  inroll- 
ing  surf.  As  he  opened  his  eyes  it  was  to  see  young  Plenty 
standing  beside  his  bed,  in  an  aroma,  also  as  usual,  of  smok- 
ing coffee.  Although  it  was  early  it  was  impossible,  after 
drinking  a  cup,  yellow  and  sweet  and  hot,  to  remain  in  his 
room  ;  and  he  went  out,  as  he  often  did,  for  a  walk  along  the 
beach.  On  his  return,  breakfast  not  being  yet  ready,  he  sat 
down  upon  a  bench  under  a  trellis  in  the  grounds,  unwilling, 
by  going  into  the  house,  to  lose  a  breath  of  the  beautiful 
morning  breaking  in  glory  upon  land  and  sea.  As  he  did 
so  he  saw  that  old  Plenty  was  standing  near  by  with  his  back 
to  him,  leaning  upon  the  handle  of  a  hoe  with  which  the  poor 
soul  deluded  himself  into  the  belief  he  had  been  working. 
Having  lived  all  his  life,  except  when  at  college,  at  the  South, 
and  among  negroes,  he  was  not  surprised  to  hear  the  aged 
black  talking  aloud  although  to  himself. 

"  An'  dere  is  Mars  Grit,"  he  heard  him  say,  as  he  contem- 
plated the  distant  horizon.  "  Did  ebber  Ole  Marster  make 
such  a  debbil  ob  a  boy  as  dat  ?  My  Lord  !  He's  de  wust 
imp  ebber  lived.  You  lie,  you  fool !  I  'members  his  fader 
well  when  he  was  a  shaver,  an'  he  was  wus. 


94  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

"An'  den  dere's  dat  trubble  wid  my  mars  general.  Ebbry 
night !  It  wa'n't  dat  way  in  ole  Firginny.  How  you  lie,  you 
ole  nigger !  My  marster  his  fader  was  dat  same  way,  an' 
you  know  it ! "  and  following  this  was  a  groan. 

"Uncle  Plenty,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  fearing  to  hear  any 
more,  "  who  are  you  talking  to  ?  " 

"  An'  dere  is  dat  yaller  piece,  —  dat  Ifferginny  dey  calls 
her,"  the  old  man  continued  aloud,  too  deaf  to  hear  the 
question  :  "  O  my  hebbenly  Marster,  dat  is  too  bad,  too  bad  ! " 
and  he  shook  his  white  head  mournfully.  As  he  did  so,  the 
other  remembered  that  he  had  lately  missed  the  mulatto  girl 
Iphigenia,  who  had  come  with  them  on  the  Nautilus,  from 
the  table  at  which  she  had  waited.  Nor  had  he  heard  her 
singing  of  late  as  she  hung  out  the  clothes  in  the  back-yard. 
He  knew  that  she  was  still  on  the  place,  however,  for  he 
had  seen  her  about  the  stables  and  kitchen-garden  when 
young  Plenty  had  led  out  his  horse  for  him  to  ride. 

"  I  'member  his  brudders  an'  his  fader,  an'  dey  was  just  as 
weeked.  But  oh,  my  Miss  Zeo,  my  Miss  Zeo  !  "  The  old 
man  said  it  so  loud,  and  with  such  a  wail  in  his  voice,  that 
the  listener  walked  rapidly  away.  Was  it  possible  that  under 
the  flowers  and  fruits  of  this  Eden  there  were  indeed  ser- 
pents, as  he  had  asked  himself  before,  venomous  and  hid- 
den, of  which  he  in  his  ignorance  had  not  dreamed? 

He  ate  his  breakfast  with  less  appetite  and  more  silently 
than  usual.  Then  he  went,  as  was  at  times  his  habit,  to 
the  vestry  of  the  church,  and  gave  himself  up  till  dinner- 
hour,  to  hard  study.  He  had  been  accustomed,  in  college 
and  seminary,  to  devote  to  his  meals  as  little  time  as  pos- 
sible ;  but,  with  Gen.  Buttolph,  dinner  especially  was  the 
event  of  the  day.  The  courses  succeeded  each  other  like 
parts  in  music  ;  and,  with  his  napkin  under  his  double  chin, 
no  one  could  be  more  leisurely  than  his  host  in  the  carving 
and  conversation.  His  guest  looked  at  him  with  new  inter- 
est to-day.  Gen.  Buttolph  always  wore  the  best  broadcloth 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  95 

and  the  finest  and  whitest  linen;  a  massive  gold  chain 
across  his  ample  vest,  a  large  red  seal  upon  a  ring  on  his 
little  finger.  His  broad  and  almost  purple  face  beamed 
with  perfect  content ;  his  voice  deep  and  slow  and  soft,  and 
his  whole  manner  that  of  a  wealthy  gentleman  who  enjoyed 
himself  thoroughly. 

Miss  Zeo  sat  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  as  quiet  as  usual, 
only  lifting  her  dark  eyes  with  a  smile  and  a  pleasant  remark 
when  spoken  to ;  or,  as  was  more  frequently  the  case,  to 
check  with  a  glance  or  a  low-spoken  word,  some  misconduct 
of  Grit,  seated  on  her  left  hand,  or  a  remark  too  impulsive 
and  independent,  of  her  sister  upon  her  right,  for,  by  com- 
mon agreement,  Miss  Irene  did  most  of  the  talking.  But 
on  this  day  their  guest,  seated  beside  Grit  and  opposite  Miss 
Irene,  did  not  laugh  as  readily  as  usual  at  her  bright  and 
amusing  remarks.  Excusing  himself  as  soon  as  possible,  he 
went  to  his  room  up-stairs,  and  got  through  the  nap  to  which 
he  had  come  to  yield  as  to  a  half-sin,  as  speedily  as  he  could. 
Then,  stealing  softly  down  stairs,  so  as  to  awaken  no  one 
from  their  siesta,  he  hastened  out  to  complete  the  last  calls 
of  his  pastoral  round  among  the  families  of  his  church. 

As  usual,  no  two  of  the  households  were  alike ;  and,  in 
his  inexperience,  he  had  to  adjust  himself  cautiously  to  each 
case.  But,  rich  or  poor,  cultivated  or  ignorant,  they  were 
alike  in  the  cordiality  of  their  welcome  :  that  was  as  much  a 
part  of  St.  Jerome  as  the  surf  or  the  orange-trees.  He  had 
promised  to  call  on  Mr.  Parsons  next  day ;  but  with  that 
exception  he  had  made,  when  he  found  himself  back  at 
Gen.  Buttolph's  at  night,  a  finish  of  his  first  round  of  visits. 

Miss  Zenobia  did  not  come  into  the  parlor  immediately 
after  tea. 

"  Zeo  has  taken  charge  of  the  housekeeping,"  Irene  said 
to  him,  "  and  I  am  very  glad  of  it.  She  is  so  good,  you 
know,  and  I  am  not." 

As  was  usual,  the  general  was  smoking  upon  the  front 


96  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

porch,  in  his  favorite  chair.  "  You  have  never  told  me,"  she 
said  to  Mr.  Venable,  after  playing  for  some  time  at  the 
instrument,  "how  you  enjoyed  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  and  her 
pictures.  You  are  as  prudent  as  Mr.  Nogens.  I  am  glad 
I'm  not  at  allafraid  of  Miss  Aurelia  Jones,  nor  of  Commo- 
dore Grandheur.  I  told  him  so  last  Sunday.  I  must  tell 
you  how  it  happened.  You  see  "  — 

Mr.  Venable  seemed  to  be  listening,  as  she  gave  an  amus- 
ing account  of  her  audacity ;  but  all  the  while  he  was  saying 
to  himself,  — 

"  How  I  wish  it  were  Miss  Zeo  instead  !  I  would  like  to 
ask  her  in  regard  to  that  beautiful  girl  at  Capt.  Chaffin's. 
It  is  strange  she  has  never  spoken  of  her;  but  I  don't 
intend  Miss  Irene  shall  draw  me  into  any  fun  over  her  poor 
mother ;  "  and  it  was  a  relief  when  a  servant  ushered  a  gen- 
tleman into  the  room.  At  the  sound,  however,  of  his  steps 
in  the  hall,  and  before  he  had  shown  himself,  Miss  Irene, 
with  a  hasty  hand  to  her  hair,  and  a  still  hastier  expression 
upon  her  lips,  fled  through  another  door.  As  Mr.  Venable 
arose  to  meet  the  visitor,  he  saw  that  he  was  a  man  of  mark, 
although  he  did  not  know  his  name.  The  new-comer,  who 
was  unusually  tall,  but  well-proportioned,  came  immediately 
across  the  parlor,  and  extended  his  hand  to  him,  as  if  he 
had  been  in  search  of  him,  and  was  glad  to  find  him  at  last. 
There  was  a  certain  willowy  grace  in  his  manner,  which  had 
a  singular  charm  for  the  other,  whose  tastes  had  been  cul- 
tivated in  schools  of  art ;  and  his  hair  and  beard,  black  and 
silken,  made  a  framing  for  the  oval  face  with  its  regular  fea- 
tures and  eyebrows  arched  and  clearly  defined.  His  smile 
disclosed  beautiful  teeth,  but  the  power  of  the  visitor  lay  in 
his  eyes.  It  was  not  that  they  were  large  and  dark;  but 
there  was  in  them  a  something  Mr.  Venable  had  never 
seen  in  the  eyes  of  any  man.  "  I  am  glad  to  make  your 
acquaintance,  Mr.  Venable,  very  glad,"  the  visitor  said. 
"  Although  I  am  not  in  St.  Jerome  often,  I  heard  of  you  as 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  97 

soon  as  you  came.  Before  we  are  interrupted,  you  must  allow 
me  to  thank  you  for  your  admirable  discourse  last  Sunday." 
But  the  fascination  of  the  man  was  not  in  the  complimentary 
things  he  proceeded  to  say,  any  more  than  it  was  in  the  cor- 
dial grasp  which  retained  its  hold  upon  the  minister's  hand. 
There  was,  in  harmony  with  his  words,  his  tones,  his  entire 
manner,  a  grasp  also  of  the  eyes  of  the  visitor  upon  his  own, 
such  as  Mr.  Venable  had  not  observed  in  the  case  of  any 
other.  During  the  conversation  which  followed,  he  was  lis- 
tened to  as  if  he  were  saying  that  which  was  of  the  greatest 
personal  interest  to  the  one  just  arrived.  It  was  more  than 
attention  on  the  part  of  the  handsome  stranger :  it  seemed 
to  be  the  sincerity  of  genuine  sympathy. 

"  I  have  heard  of  personal  magnetism,"  Mr.  Venable  said 
to  himself  at  last,  "  but  I  have  never  before  experienced  it. 
Magnetism  ?  Yes,  this  must  be  Gov.  Magruder,  of  whom  Mr. 
Parsons  spoke." 

Sure  enough :  Col.  Roland,  who  accompanied  the  gov- 
ernor, had  tarried  upon  the  porch  to  say  a  word  to  Gen. 
Buttolph ;  and,  both  now  entering  the  room,  the  colonel 
proceeded  to  introduce  him. 

"It  is  not  at  all  necessary,"  he  said  :  "Mr.  Venable  and 
myself  are  already  acquainted,  — well  acquainted,  I  hope." 

But  Miss  Zenobia  and  her  sister  came  in  as  he  said  it ; 
and,  except  with  more  deference  in  his  manner,  Col.  Roland's 
companion  greeted  them  as  cordially  as  he  had  done  the 
minister.  The  habit  of  study  was  so  strong  upon  this  last, 
that,  taking  occasional  part  in  the  conversation  which  fol- 
lowed, he  could  not  refrain  from  considering,  contrasting 
even,  the  persons  present.  As  to  the  portly  host,  he  settled 
himself  deep  in  the  plush  of  a  large  chair,  and  beamed  upon 
all  present,  his  large  hands  clasped  together  or  playing  with 
his  watch-chain ;  saying  almost  nothing,  but  ready  with  a 
reply  or  a  hearty  laugh.  The  utter  enjoyment  of  the  gen- 
eral was  now,  as  always,  something  wholly  new  to  one  fresh 


98  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

from  among  people  who  were  under  the  stress  of  religious 
principle,  moral  purpose,  at  the  least,  anxious  energy  in 
business ;  and  there  was  relaxation  in  looking  at  him. 

As  the  conversation  became  more  general  and  animated, 
Mr.  Venable  observed  that  Col.  Roland  had  been  taken 
possession  of  by  Miss  Irene,  while  the  governor  was  devoting 
himself  to  her  sister.  The  habit  of  observation,  of  analysis, 
had  been  too  long  and  thoroughly  developed  in  the  student 
for  him  to  help  noticing  the  difference  between  the  two 
men.  Col.  Roland  was  listening  to  Miss  Irene's  lively  and 
varied  talk,  as  a  polished  man  of  the  world  would  do,  but 
took  also  as  much  part  in  it  as  he  possibly  could ;  eager  to 
slip  in  a  quotation,  an  incident,  an  anecdote  in  regard  to 
himself.  Not  so  with  the  other :  Gov.  Magruder  made,  no 
allusion  to  himself,  and,  after  the  first  salutations,  had  evi- 
dently devolved  upon  the  lady  the  burden  of  conversation, 
listening  intently  to  what  Miss  Zeo  had  to  say.  In  fact,  he 
hung  upon  her  words  as  if  he  feared  she  would  cease  speak- 
ing :  whenever  she  did,  he  was  silent,  even  embarrassed, 
and  plainly  becoming  more  so.  This  was  so  evident 
at  last,  that  Col.  Roland  came  to  his  help,  and  both  Miss 
Zeo  and  the  governor  sat  comparatively  silent,  while  Miss 
Irene  and  the  colonel  absorbed  between  them  almost  the 
entire  conversation. 

As  Gov.  Magruder  became  with  every  passing  moment,  if 
possible,  more  hopelessly  silent,  Col.  Roland  asked  Miss 
Irene  for  music  ;  and  her  execution  was  as  brilliant,  her  songs 
as  varied  and  as  spirited,  as  usual.  At  a  covert  gesture 
from  the  colonel,  his  friend,  when  she  ceased,  led  her  sister 
to  the  instrument.  Mr.  Venable  enjoyed  the  music  more 
than  ever.  It  was  neither  as  loud,  as  rapid,  nor  as  striking,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  other.  Had  the  parlor  been  crowded,  it 
would  not  have  seemed  unnatural  for  conversation  to  have 
accompanied  the  music  of  the  elder  sister,  to  have  been 
stimulated  by  it,  even;  but  Miss  Zeo's  performance  was 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  99 

of  a  kind  during  which  it  would  have  seemed,  even  in 
the  most  crowded  room,  disreputable  to  converse.  Yet  this 
discord  ran  through  the  impression  of  subdued  power  it 
conveyed,  this  dissonance,  to  Mr.  Venable  at  least,  that  Gov. 
Magruder  was  listening  with  an  attention  which  was  more 
than  mere  enjoyment,  —  so  much  so,  that,  as  she  arose  the 
minister  left  the  room  and  the  house,  and  stood  to  one  side 
of  the  front  gate,  under  the  oleanders.  It  was  a  fear  too 
sharp  and  sudden  to  be  endured  shut  up  in  a  parlor.  If  only 
for  a  few  moments,  he  wanted  to  be  out  in  the  cool  air,  to 
hear  the  roar  of  the  surf,  to  be  under  the  clouded  light  of 
the  moon ;  supposing  when  he  left  that  conversation  would 
follow  the  music.  To  his  surprise  the  gentlemen  made 
their  adieux,  and  came  away  almost  as  soon  as  she  arose 
from  the  instrument.  It  was  a  walk  of  some  little  distance 
from  the  porch  to  the  gate  beside  which  Mr.  Venable 
stood  in  the  shadows  of  the  foliage,  grasping  the  paling 
and  looking  out  upon  the  sea ;  and  the  gentlemen  were 
talking  in  a  low  voice  as  they  came.  Col.  Roland  found 
some  difficulty  in  unfastening  the  latch  of  the  gate ;  and  the 
listener  could  not  help  hearing  him  curse  it,  and  add  in  an 
irritated  way,  — 

"  Confound  it,  Magruder  !  don't  be  a  fool !  Why  didn't 
you  talk  to  her,  man?  " 

"  I  said  all  I  could  think  of,"  the  governor  replied. 

"  Hang  it,  man,  I  kept  Miss  Irene  off  to  give  you  a  chance 
to  talk ;  and,"  his  companion  added,  "  you  sat  so  mum  at 
last,  I  had  to  propose  music ;  and  then  to  come  away  the  in- 
stant it  was  over  !  You  can't  possibly  do  better,  Magruder. 
She  will  make  you  a  splendid  wife.  Don't  be  a  fool !  " 

"Suppose  I  don't  know  that?  But,"  the  other  added, 
"  it  is  a  cursed  shame,  Roland.  A  fellow  like  me  !  " 

At  this  instant  the  latch  yielded;  and  with  another  ex- 
clamation at  it,  or  at  his  companion,  Col.  Roland  passed 
out,  the  governor  undergoing  what  to  the  unwilling  listener 
seemed  to  be  almost  a  scolding  as  they  walked  away. 


IOO  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

Mr.  Venable  returned  to  the  parlor,  but  not  for  some  time 
after,  and  merely  to  bid  his  friends  good-night.  While  he  was 
doing  so,  Mr.  Fanthorp  came  in.  Miss  Irene  seemed  glad 
to  see  him,  but  he  would  not  take  a  seat.  "  I  wouldn't 
dare  to  say  it,  if  the  general  had  not  stepped  out  of  the 
room,"  he  said,  after  a  little  conversation;  "but,  do  you 
know,  his  excellency  Old  Ugly  —  I  passed  him  just  now  — 
came  to  town  expressly  to  call  upon  a  certain  young  lady  ?  " 

"  Please,"  Mr.  Venable  demanded,  dreading  to  hear  more, 
"  tell  me  now  why  they  give  him  such  a  name  ?  I'm  a  new- 
comer, and  I've  heard  it  continually." 

"Because,"  Miss  Zenobia  replied,  "  he  is  young  and  hand- 
some, and  such  a  favorite  among  the  people  :  it  is  a  kind  of 
pet  name." 

"  Everybody  of  decided  character  in  the  State  has  his 
nickname,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  added,  his  own  being  Mr.  Farce 
Fanthorp  ;  "  but,"  he  continued  with  affected  astonishment, 
"  can  I  believe  my  ears  ?  And  you  think  he  is  handsome, 
Miss  Zenobia?  Well !  It  is  all  over  !  "  And  Miss  Irene 
laughed,  as  her  modest  sister  blushed  and  smiled. 

"  Let  me  show  you  how  it  will  be,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  said ; 
"  only  doa't  let  Roland  know ;  "  and,  going  out  into  the  hall, 
he  pushed  up  his  hair,  arranged  his  necktie,  and  came  in 
again.  "  Why,  Mr.  Venable,"  he  exclaimed,  personating  the 
governor  with  wonderful  fidelity,  "  glad  to  see  you,  glad  to 
see  you  !  —  And  Miss  Irene  Buttolph,"  and  he  went  up  to  her 
also,  and  took  her  cordially  yet  deferentially  by  the  hand. 
"  We  have  had  charming  weather  today.  —  And  this  is  Miss 
Zenobia."  Mimicking  the  governor  in  tone  and  manner, 
he  halted  as  he  approached  the  lady,  and  let  his  extended 
hand  fall  in  a  helpless  way,  as  if  embarrassed. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said  :"  you  are  very  charming  —  the 
weather  is,  I  mean  —  hum  —  haw  —  I  ask  your  pardon  "  — 

The  mimicry  of  their  late  visitor  was  so  good  that  Irene 
exclaimed  with  delight,  and  her  sister  laughed  even  while 


A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  IOI 

she  colored  afresh.  But  at  this  moment  Gen.  Buttolph  re- 
turned to  the  room,  and,  after  saluting  Mr.  Fanthorp,  began, 
instead  of  sitting  down,  to  walk  to  and  fro  across  the  room 
in  a  restless  way.  Possibly  Mr.  Fanthorp  may  have  observed 
that  the  general  glanced  covertly  at  his  watch  once  or  twice, 
as  the  lively  conversation  went  on,  for  he  soon  after  bade 
them  good-night,  and  withdrew ;  and  Mr.  Venable  followed 
his  example,  but  not  to  sleep. 


IO2  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MR.    EZRA   MICAJAH   PARSONS   BEGINS  TO   EXPLAIN   HIS   IDEAS 
TO   MR.   VENABLE. 

I  AM  glad  to  see  you,"  Mr.  Ezra  Micajah  Parsons  said 
to  Mr.  Venable,  as  that  gentleman  stepped  upon  the 
veranda  of  his  house  the  morning  after  the  events  last  re- 
corded. "  Walk  in.  How  are  you  ?  Because  I  wanted  to 
explain  to  you,"  his  host  proceeded  rapidly  and  without 
further  salutation,  "  my  plan  for  the  conversion  of  the  Catho- 
lics of  America.  It  is,"  he  added,  "  like  Columbus  and  his 
egg  :  nothing  can  be  simpler  when  stated.  All  I  ask  is  your 
attention  ;  "  and  he  arose,  and  stepped  to  a  blackboard  which 
took  up  one  side  of  the  room  into  which  they  had  entered. 

Mr.  Parsons  was  long  and  lank  and  lean  to  a  remarkable 
degree,  reminding  one  of  a  greyhound  even  in  the  length  of 
his  nose.  What  little  hair  he  had  was  white  and  disordered, 
the  temples  deeply  sunken,  as  were  his  eyes,  the  forehead 
narrow  but  unusually  high.  His  clothes  were  shabby  and 
ill-fitting ;  and  he  had  forgotten,  in  his  haste,  to  take  off  the 
well-worn  felt  hat  which  he  had  merely  knocked  up  from  off 
his  brow  as  he  took  a  lump  of  chalk  in  his  hand,  the  bared 
wrist  adding  to  the  appearance  of  unusual  length  in  hand 
and  fingers.  Had  his  visitor  known  that  his  eccentric  host 
was  to  rank,  in  the  end,  as  one  of  the  most  successful  invent- 
ors of  the  day,  he  would  have  listened  to  him  more  atten- 
tively. At  that  date,  however,  he,  like  every  one  else, 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  IO3 

regarded  him  as  the  most  complete  specimen  he  had  ever 
met  of  a  visionary ;  merely  a  masculine  variety  upon  Mrs. 
Chaffingsby.  Not  an  inhabitant  of  St.  Jerome  but  knew  him 
to  be  the  most  generous  of  men,  as  well  as  the  most  earnest 
of  Christians :  yet  they  were  as  unanimous  in  despairing 
of  and  laughing  at  him  then  as  they  were  in  forgetting  and 
denying  that  they  had  ever  done  so,  when  his  name  had 
become  a  household  word,  and  his  income  had  reached  a 
hundred  thousand  a  year. 

"  We  will  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Parsons,  "  that  there  are  five 
million  Catholics  in  America,"  and  he  dashed  down  the 
numerals  upon  the  board.  "These  have"  —  and  three 
million  was  rapidly  inscribed  —  "  that  many  children  !  Very 
well.  Now,  a  book  for  each  child  will  cost  twenty  cents  " — 

Mr.  Venable  was  far  from  being  in  a  mood  for  Mr.  Par- 
sons ;  would  not  have  come,  in  fact,  if  he  had  not  engaged 
to  do  so.  Being  there,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  occasion, 
if  only  to  escape  from  his  own  thoughts,  and  interrupted  the 
other. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  :  a  book?  " 

"  Certainly.  A  book,"  the  other  replied,  "  containing  the 
essential  facts  of  history  and  the  gospel,  in  the  largest  and 
clearest  type,  printed  on  linen  so  that  they  cannot  be  torn, 
brimful  of  pictures,  strongly  bound,  with  attractive  covers. 
The  children  and  parents  will  be  as  greedy  for  them  as  for 
cakes.  Three  million  children  at  twenty  cents  each,  sixty 
million  cents,"  working  it  out  on  the  board,  "  six  hundred 
thousand  dollars ;  say  a  million  of  dollars.  Do  you  suppose 
that  a  single  child  so  supplied  would  grow  up  a  Catholic  ? 
In  fifteen  years  —  if  you  hesitate,  say  thirty  years  —  Roman- 
ism would  have  become  extinct,  and  at  an  expense  of  two 
or  three  millions  at  the  outside.  Could  money  be  better 
invested?  Surely  the  combined  Christianity  of  the  land 
could  easily  raise  the  means." 

"Are  you  in  serious  earnest?"  Mr.  Venable  asked. 


IO4  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"Certainly  I  am.  Why  not?"  the  other  replied,  turning 
with  amazement,  and  without  a  particle  of  hesitation  in  his 
manner.  "  Surely  it  would  be  worth  the  money." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  his  visitor  said,  "  do  you  suppose  the 
priests  would  allow  it?" 

"  But  if  you  gave  the  children  the  books,  attractive  books, 
mind,  and  gave  them ;  "  yet,  as  the  other  said  it,  he  faltered, 
his  eyes  clouded,  the  chalk  fell  from  his  hand.  It  was  but 
one  of  a  hundred  schemes,  most  of  them  worked  out  in 
accurate  diagrams  and  conclusive  numerals  upon  the  same 
board,  the  feasible  part  of  which  was  seen  by  him  so  vividly 
as  to  dazzle  his  mind  to  all  the  rest. 

"  Won't  you  allow  me  to  see  your  place  ?  "  Mr.  Venable 
hastened  to  say.  "  I  have  heard  so  much  of  it,  and  it  is  too 
fine  a  day  to  stay  in  doors." 

"  I'm  not  satisfied  about  that  matter.  Never  mind,  we'll 
talk  of  it  again,"  said  Mr.  Parsons.  "  Come  along.  You 
are  too  abrupt  in  your  contradictions  for  so  young  a  man. 
However !  That  is  my  fig-orchard,"  he  added  as  they 
walked  rapidly  out  into  the  grounds.  "  The  trees  are  ban- 
daged in  straw  for  fear  of  a  -norther.  Those  are  my  oranges. 
Yonder  are  the  lemons.  Wait  a  few  weeks  if  you  would  see 
my  place  in  its  glory." 

"  And  what  is  all  this  ?  "  his  friend  asked  as  they  passed  an 
enormous  iron  kettle,  surrounded  by  empty  hogsheads  and 
the  wrecks  of  machinery. 

"That  was  one  of  my  ideas,"  Mr.  Parsons  explained,  but 
without  pausing.  "  Just  then  I  was  full  of  hydraulic  pressure. 
I  would  put  in  water,  half  a  hogshead  of  sugar,  and  a  cart- 
load of  fruit,  figs  say,  into  the  kettle.  Then,  while  hot,  I 
would  press  the  preserves  into  ten-pound  canisters  made 
very  strong  for  the  purpose.  But  I  learned  better.  I  never 
drop  an  idea  except  for  a  better  one  —  never  !  So  about 
those  Papists.  I'll  pass  the  children,  and  aim  for  the  priests. 
This  is  my  banana-grove,  under  all  these  bundles  of  sacking. 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  10$ 

It  is  against  the  storm  of  the  Last  Day,  that  the  Great 
Husbandman  wraps  up  our  bodies  under  seas  and  mountains. 
Would  you  like  me  to  explain  it  all  to  you?  " 

"  Certainly.  I  will  gladly  listen,"  the  other  replied,  won- 
dering at  an  explanation  of  the  resurrection  from  such  a 
theologian.  He  stopped  while  his  host  cut  a  twig  off  a 
neighboring  tree,  and  split  it  open,  saying,  — 

"This  is  an  almond-tree.  Do  you  see  how  large  the  pith 
of  the  switch  is  ?  It  is  because  the  almond  is  a  peach  all 
run  to  stone.  Now,  if  I  take  out  this  pith,  and  graft  the 
twig,  the  fruit  will  lose  the  stone  in  favor  of  the  pulp.  You 
can  do  almost  any  thing  with  every  thing.  If  you  plan  and 
think,  and,  as  fast  as  you  drop  one  thing,  seize  upon  another. 
What  I  want  to  say  is  this  :  The  world  is  changing.  In  the 
direction  of  condensing.  All- work  is  done  now  in  a  hun- 
dredth part  of  the  time  by  machinery.  People  have  stopped 
writing  long  letters.  You  flash  all  you  have  to  say  con- 
densed into  one  line,  and  by  lightning.  If  I  had  an  absent 
son,  do  you  suppose  I  would  write  him  pages  of  advice? 
Not  at  all.  I  would  simply  refer  him  to  a  chapter  of  the 
New  Testament  for  his  theory,  and  to  the  proverbs  of  Solo- 
mon for  his  practice.  Even  lovers  write  no  poetry,  nor  any 
other  stuff  and  nonsense,  now.  They  condense  all  they 
have  to  say,  I  suppose,  into  a  kiss ;  that  is,  when  they  can 
get  time  to  meet  a  moment.  Time  was  when  people  would 
sit  down  at  a  table,  and  spend  hours  at  a  meal.  Napoleon 
never  took  over  twenty  minutes  to  dinner :  /  am  through 
in  fifteen.  People  have  almost  lost  the  faculty  of  fooling 
away  their  time.  That's  past.  Let  me  show  you ;  "  and 
Mr.  Parsons  walked  rapidly  away,  followed  by  his  friend, 
to  a  sort  of  warehouse  in  one  corner  of  his  grounds.  In 
the  centre  was  a  baker's  oven,  while  all  around  were  tables, 
and  heaps  of  small  boxes. 

"  We  have  stopped  our  works  to  see  how  we  will  sell,"  he 
said ;  "  but  no  sane  man  can  doubt  the  result  in  this  case. 


IO6  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

What  do  you  suppose  that  is?  "  taking  up,  as  he  spoke,  what 
seemed  to  be  a  cracker,  from  a  small  pan  on  the  table. 

"  A  soda-cracker,  of  course,"  the  other  replied. 

"  No,  sir.  That  is  a  spring  chicken  !  One  chicken  to  a 
cracker,  as  you  call  it ;  exactly  twelve  chickens  to  a  pan.  I 
boil  the  chicken  in  a  vacuum,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
house,  extract  every  atom  of  bone  and  fibre,  leaving  the 
essential  chicken  itself.  The  superfluous  water  is  expelled 
by  baking  in  a  pan.  What  is  left  is  intensely  and  exclusively 
chicken.  Drop  that  cracker  into  a  pot  of  boiling  water,  and 
it  makes  strong  soup.  And  what  do  you  think  that  is?" 
passing  to  another  and  larger  set  of  pans,  and  taking  up  an- 
other fragment.  "  Bite  it,  and  see.  That  is  a  turkey ;  a 
whole  drove  of  turkeys  in  those  pans.  Now,  what  do  you 
suppose  is  in  this  box?  "  Mr.  Venable  shook  his  head,  with 
inquiring  eyes.  "  A  calf,  and  a  fat  one.  In  this  larger  box, 
all  in  cakes  to  be  handy  for  use,  is  a  beef.  A  pig  is  some- 
how as  hard  to  catch,"  Mr.  Parsons  continued,  "  when  dead 
as  alive  ;  but  we  have  penned  up,  oily  as  they  are,  a  whole 
barnyard  of  pigs  in  those  boxes.  I  am  the  original  inventor 
of  Focussed  Flesh ;  remember  that !  In  a  few  years  the 
armies  and  especially  the  navies  of  the  world  will  be  fed  up- 
on my  food.  It  will  be  by  reason  of  my  invention  that  the 
North  Pole  and  the  South  will  be  discovered.  Why,  sir,  one 
small  ship  can  carry  in  its  hold,  thus,  whole  herds  of  cattle 
as  well  as  vast  fields  of  vegetables." 

Mr.  Parsons  straightened  himself  up  as  he  said  it,  pushing 
back  his  shabby  old  hat  from  his  forehead,  his  restless  gray 
eyes  fastened  keenly  upon  the  other  from  their  sunken 
sockets. 

"  I  am  on  the  right  track  only,"  he  added,  — "  after 
years  of  experiment.  Have  merely  begun.  I  intend,  if  I 
don't  break  all  to  pieces,  to  condense  every  thing  that  peo- 
ple use.  I  mean  to  put  a  potato  into  a  pill-box,  a  pumpkin 
into  a  tablespoon,  the  biggest  sort  of  a  watermelon  into  a 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  IO/ 

saucer.  Every  thing  hermetically  sealed,  of  course.  The 
Turks  make  acres  of  roses  into  attar  of  roses.  I'm  told  you 
can  put  all  the  rose-fields  of  Syria  into  a  demijohn.  I  intend 
to  make  attar  of  every  thing  !  —  flowers  of  every  sort,  fish, 
vegetables.  The  day  will  come  when  a  distiller  will  have 
learned  from  me  to  put  a  whole  vineyard  into  one  barrel. 
Look  at  nitro-glycerine.  There  you  have  tons  of  powder 
concentrated  into  an  ounce.  Eh?  Why  not?  What  do 
you  think  of  it?"  he  demanded,  as  sharply  excited,  in  his 
way,  as  was  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  in  hers ;  and  for  half  an 
hour  he  continued  to  the  same  effect. 

"  It  is  all  new  to  me,"  Mr.  Venable  said  modestly,  at  last ; 
"  but  an  idea  has  occurred  to  me." 

"  Let's  have  it,"  interrupted  the  other,  "  I'm  steel.  You 
may  be  flint.  Out  with  your  spark,  if  it  ts  only  a  spark." 

"  I  have  to  keep  up  with  the  news,"  his  visitor  said,  enter- 
ing into  the  mood  of  his  host,  "  but  I  have  no  time  to  read 
a  daily  through.  In  order  to  get  to  my  studies  as  soon  as 
possible,  I  have  formed  the  habit  of  running  my  eye  down 
the  head-lines,  merely  down  the  middle  of  each  column  at 
that.  Now,  how  would  it  do,  Mr.  Parsons,  to  publish  a 
daily  of  the  size  of  your  hand,  head-lines  and  nothing  else  ? 
If  you  please,  let  us  go  to  your  blackboard,  and  I  will  ex- 
plain. I  do  believe,"  he  laughed  to  himself  as  he  walked  to 
the  house,  followed  by  his  host,  "  that  his  mania  is  as  catch- 
ing as  yellow- fever."  And,  arrived  at  the  room  in  question, 
he  laid  aside  his  hat,  rolled  up  his  sleeves,  wiped  the  Catho- 
lics out  of  existence  from  the  board,  and  said  to  his  host,  — 

"Your  idea,  Mr.  Parsons,  is  condensation.  When  you 
feed  a  man,  you  intend  leaving  all  unnecessary  portions  of 
his  food  in  the  slaughter-yard.  Now,  the  details  of  the  daily 
news  are  utterly  unnecessary.  It  is  like  giving  a  man,  with 
his  steak,  the  horns,  hide,  and  hoofs  of  the  ox.  With  many 
sorts  of  news  it  is  worse :  it  is  as  if  you  heaped  his  plate 
with  the  disgusting  blood  and  bowels  of  his  beef  or  pork. 


IO8  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

Now,  let  us  imagine  a  daily  for  the  Union.  No ;  call  your 
daily  '  The  Globe,'  and  mean  it.  Let  it  give  to-day  all  of 
yesterday's  intelligence  of  and  for  the  universe.  The  cables 
will  enable  it  to  do  that.  But,  condensed.  Allow  me  to 
illustrate ; "  and,  half  in  jest,  he  made  out  a  column  of  his 
daily,  beginning  at  the  top  of  the  blackboard,  and  defining 
the  proposed  page  with  bold  lines  upon  every  side,  as 
follows :  — 


THE     GLOBE. 


947  fires  yesterday :  accidental,  490  ;  incendiary,  457. 
Defaulters,  500:  $2396,072  stolen;  200  arrested. 
Suicides,  450:  love  the  cause,  156;  rum,  294, 
Failures,  323:  assets,  $8,956372;  liabilities,  $20,746,932. 
Murders,  504:  money  the  cause,  102;  rum,  402;  caught, 

75;  proved,  49;  hung,  3. 
People  baptized,  7,800;  disciplined,  176. 
Marriages,  6,000;  average  age,  29. 
Books  published  yesterday,  780. 
Births  in  the  world,  897^51. 
Deaths  in  the  world,  702345. 
Speeches  made,  487:  good  ones,  80;  bad,  407. 
The  joke  of  the  world  yesterday. 


"By  that  last  item,"  Mr.  Venable  explained,  "I  mean 
that  the  very  cream  of  the  fun  of  the  planet  during  the  day 
before  should  be  concentrated  into  a  line  or  two.  The 
paper  might  have  a  dozen  microscopic  illustrations,  too,  — 
photographs  of  actual  scenes,  or  of  the  leading  character  of 
the  day  to  be  looked  at  through  a  magnifying-glass.  Ex- 
cuse me,"  he  added,  laying  down  the  chalk,  brushing  off  his 
hands,  and  seating  himself  with  a  smile,  "  but  I  believe 
some  day  it  will  be  done.  If  they  were  to  apply  the  same 
condensation  to  encyclopaedias  and  systems  of  theology,  what 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  IOQ 

a  blessing,"  he  added,  "it  would  be  !  Why,  sir,  the  poetry  of 
the  race  is  tremendous  in  quantity,  but  all  the  lines  in  it 
men  care  for  are  less  than  are  the  grains  to  the  wheat-field. 
When  your  vessel  sailed  to  the  Pole,  it  could  carry  the  litera- 
ture of  the  world  in  one  bookcase,  if  it  was  duly  concen- 
trated. The  ship  might  be  locked  up  in  the  ice  for  twenty 
years,  and  have  all  the  civilization  as  well  as  the  food  of  the 
world  in  its  hold,  and  plenty  to  spare." 

"  I  don't  know,"  Mr.  Parsons  said,  "  whether  you  are 
joking  or  not.  A  young  man  ought  to  be  very  careful. 
Begin,"  he  added  somewhat  dryly,  "  by  condensing  your 
sermons,  Mr.  Venable,  as  also  your  remarks  in  prayer- 
meeting.  Although,"  he  said  after  a  while,  "there  may  be 
something  in  your  reckless  suggestions." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  the  other  replied,  badly  hurt,  but  put- 
ting a  smiling  face  upon  it,  for  he  was  a  thoroughly  sensible 
fellow.  "  You  know  I'm  in  the  period  of  mere  bloom  yet, 
like  a  peach-tree.  I  hope  I  will  condense  into  fruit  some 
day.  Besides,  you  know  how  it  is  about  Mr.  Phip  Quatty 
on  Wednesday  nights." 

"He  is  undoubtedly  the  best  man,"  Mr.  Parsons  inter- 
jected, "  and  the  biggest  fool,  I  ever  knew."  At  which  the 
other  could  not  keep  from  laughing.  Only  the  day  before, 
Mr.  Quatty  had  said  the  same  of  Mr.  Parsons ;  for,  of  all 
people  alive,  peculiar  people  are  the  most  impatient  of  the 
peculiarities  of  others.  "  Who  wants  to  be  told  over  and 
over  and  yet  over  again,"  Mr.  Parsons  continued,  "  by  Mr. 
Quatty,  that  he  was  once  an  oysterman,  and  that  the  re- 
ligious stranger  said  to  him  as  he  was  dredging  for  oysters 
—  what  was  it  ?  " 

"Why,  Mr.  Parsons,"  the  young  minister  said,  with  a 
laugh,  "  you  have  heard  him  so  often,  too  !  Gen.  Buttolph  in- 
sisted upon  my  taking  up  a  great  deal  of  the  time  at  prayer- 
meeting,  so  as  to  afford  Mr.  Quatty  less  chance  to  speak. 
You  know  how  you  all  rise  and  pray  or  sing  or  speak  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  before  he  can  slip  in  "  — 


IIO  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

At  this  moment,  however,  a  bell  was  heard  to  ring ;  and, 
with  the  sound,  a  lovely  little  girl  of  six  years  of  age  ran  in, 
seized  upon  Mr.  Parsons  by  his  long  legs,  and  endeavored 
to  drag  him  away. 

"  Come  to  dinner,  Ezra  Micajah  Papa,"  she  said.  "  We've 
got  a  puddin'  because  Mr.  Venable  is  here.  Make  haste, 
ma  said,  or  she'd  eat  it  all  up."  And  their  visitor  did  not 
wonder  at  the  sudden  change  in  the  lank  and  dry  old  man 
as  he  took  the  laughing  little  Hebe  into  his  arms. 

"This  is  our  little  Alice,"  he  said,  evidently  with  a  great 
deal  more  pride  than  in  his  inventions.  "  Our  only  one,  — 
our  owny,  owny  one  ;  "  and  he  rubbed  his  sallow  face  against 
the  fat  and  blooming  cheek,  while  she  laughed  yet  louder, 
tumbling  his  scanty  hair  about  with  her  dumpling  fingers. 
"And  this  is  my  second  wife,"  he  added,  introducing  his 
friend  to  a  round  and  rosy-faced  lady  at  the  end  of  the  table, 
after  they  had  gone  into  the  house  and  had  sat  down  to 
dinner. 

"  Why  will  you  always  say  I  am  your  second  wife  ?  "  the 
lady  inquired  laughingly,  after  the  little  girl  had  been  ad- 
justed in  her  high-chair,  and  blessing  had  been  asked. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  such  a  dry  old  stick,"  he  said,  as  he  proceeded 
to  help  Mr.  Venable  to  soup.  "  I  don't  want  people  to  think 
that  you  are  old,  Ally." 

"There  is  small  fear  of  that,"  their  guest  remarked,  and 
very  sincerely ;  for  the  wife  was  full  twenty  years  the  younger, 
—  still  younger  than  that,  in  virtue  of  her  particularly  jovial 
appearance. 

"  I  wouldn't  do  it,  sir,"  she  remonstrated  with  Mr.  Ven- 
able, as  the  host  held  out  the  plate  of  soup.  "  I  know  it  is 
polite  in  you,  but  I  wouldn't !  " 

"  It  is  a  fat  hen  which  I  condensed  with  my  own  hands 
not  three  months  ago,"  Mr.  Parsons  persisted.  "  Put  in 
plenty  of  pepper  and  salt  and  butter,  sir,  and  I  know  you 
will  like  it.  I  always  eat  it ;  more  nutritive  food  never  was 
eaten." 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  Ill 

"It  may  be  nourishing,"  Mrs.  Parsons  said,  "but  it  is 
musty,  Ezra :  all  the  pepper  and  salt  on  the  table  can't  hide 
that.  Our  little  Owny  here  and  I  never  touch  it ;  "  and  the 
lady  made  a  face,  with  a  comical  shudder  of  her  plump 
shoulders.  "  We  don't  believe  in  his  inventions,  sir,  —  not 
one  bit.  Don't  do  it,  Mr.  Venable  !  " 

But  he  did.  The  soup  was,  he  said,  after  tasting  it. 
"  good  soup,  excellent  soup."  He  "  had  never  eaten  better 
soup."  The  fact,  however,  was,  that  he  "  never  was  partic- 
ularly partial  to  chicken-soup."  It  was  "  always  prepared 
for  sick  people  "  where  he  had  lived  before.  Notwithstand- 
ing which,  and  in  deference  to  the  inventor,  he  finished  the 
bountiful  plate,  under  the  merry  eyes  of  mother  and  daugh- 
er.  There  was  nothing  wrong  about  the  article,  except  a 
hazy  sort  of  doubt  which  seemed  to  rest,  like  a  fog,  upon 
the  taste  thereof.  It  seemed  to  be  a  small  matter,  partaking 
of  the  article  when  he  would  have  much  rather  not ;  but  it 
was  good  practice  at  what  he  knew  must  be  the  habit  of  his 
life,  and  that  was  never  to  allow  what  he  personally  liked  or 
disliked  to  enter  at  all  into  the  question  of  what  he  had  to 
do. 

"  My  husband  is  forever  inventing,"  his  wife  added  when 
the  soup  had  been  removed.  "  We  have  a  table,  the  rim  of 
which  is  as  broad  as  a  plate,  and  is  fixed,  while  all  the  rest 
revolves.  The  dishes  are  placed  on  the  central  part,  you 
observe,  and  go  around  at  a  push  to  whoever  wants  them. 
You  have  no  idea,  sir,  the  expense  he  went  to  in  making 
and  patenting  it  in  time  for  our  wedding.  I  had  a  good 
cry  over  it.  There  was  a  large  company,  and  he  had 
forgotten  that  you  could  not  use  a  tablecloth  on  such  a 
thing.  I  was  too  afraid  of  him  then  to  say  one  word :  I 
could  only  cry." 

It  was  plain  that  the  lady  had  lost  her  terror  since  then ; 
for  she  kept  up  a  laughing  attack  on  her  husband  during 
the  whole  meal,  warning  her  guest  energetically  against  the 


112  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

hydraulic  pressed  preserves  when  they  came  on  with  the 
prophesied  pudding.  Mr.  Parsons  was  used  to  the  ridicule, 
and  ate  steadily  and  somewhat  enormously,  his  long  body 
bowed  down  over  his  plate,  leaving  the  entertainment  of  his 
friend  to  his  wife.  It  was  very  plain,  however,  to  Mr.  Ven- 
able,  that  any  one  else  would  laugh  at  the  inventor  at  their 
peril  if  she  was  to  know  of  it.  Under  all  her  merriment  he 
saw  with  pleasure  the  devoted  love  of  the  mother,  as  well  as 
of  fat  little  Owny  as  they  called  her,  for  the  gaunt  old  man. 

"Don't  misunderstand  me,  Mr.  Venable,"  she  said  as 
they  rose  from  table  :  "  I  do  not  believe  in  his  inventions, 
—  at  least,"  she  added,  with  an  arch  look  at  her  husband, 
"  not  very  much,  —  but  I  do  believe  in  his  motives.  Mr. 
Parsons  has  no  wish  to  make  money,  except  to  do  good  with 
it.  He  knows  that  very  much  is  needed  for  Christian  work ; 
and  he  is  anxious  to  make,  if  he  can,  millions  for  that.  I 
don't  think,  myself,  he  will  do  any  thing  but  lose ;  but  I  am 
only  a  woman,  and  I  don't  know.  There's  his  terraqueous 
machine,  for  instance.  Owny  and  I  don't  believe  in  it,  not 
a  mite  ;  but  we  do  believe  in  Ezra  Micajah  Papa, — yes,  we  do 
believe  in  him  with  all  our  hearts,"  and  she  looked  lovingly 
at  him  as  she  said  it.  "Take  warning,  Mr.  Venable,"  she 
called  after  him  as  they  left  the  room,  "  don't  ride  in  it  if  he 
asks  you.  Beware  ! "  The  guest  had  thrown  himself  as 
far  as  he  could  into  the  occasion ;  but  the  merry  eyes  and 
words  and  ringing  laughter  of  Mrs.  Parsons,  as  well  as  of 
Owny  who  was  her  duplicate  in  miniature,  were  the  most 
delightful  part  of  it  all.  It  may  have  been  the  contrast  of 
the  mother  and  her  child  to  the  rapid  and  dry  old  man  and 
his  exceedingly  dry  desiccations  in  the  warehouse  ;  but  their 
visitor  had  never  met  any  persons,  who,  in  a  purely  flesh- 
and-blood  way,  seemed  quite  so  full  of  the  life  and  health 
and  abounding  joy  of  mere  existence. 

"  I  always  take  one  hour  after  dinner,"  the  lady  said, 
following  him  to  the  door,  "of  good  sleep.  Mr.  Parsons 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  113 

never  does.  He  condenses  his  sleep,  he  says,  into  his  six 
hours  of  that  much  the  sounder  sleep  at  night.  But  he  does 
as  he  pleases,  and  lets  me  do  as  /  please.  Good-by,  Mr. 
Venable  ;  but  remember,  as  you  value  your  life,  don't  prom- 
ise to  go  in  his  machine  !  " 


114  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

WE  CONTINUE  OUR  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  MR.   EZRA  MICAJAH 
PARSONS,  AND  HIS  OWNY. 

NO  man  respects  women  more  than  I  do,"  the  inventor 
remarked,  as  he  led  his  guest  from  the  dinner-table 
towards  the  building  on  the  other  side  of  his  place,  which 
held  the  terraqueous  machine ;  "  but  no  woman  since  crea- 
tion ever  invented  any  thing,  and  no  female  ever  will.  You 
have  read  of  Palissy  the  potter.  His  wonderful  discoveries 
were  made  after  years  of  agony  from  the  opposition  of  his 
wife.  Mrs.  Parsons  is  very  different ;  but,  being  a  woman, 
she  can't  appreciate  such  things." 

Mr.  Venable  had  lifted  little  Owny  from  her  high-chair 
at  the  dinner-table  when  he  arose ;  and  it  was  under  cover  of 
such  a  shield  upon  his  bosom  as  he  walked  that  he  replied, 
exhilarated  by  the  mirth  of  Mrs.  Parsons  as  well  as  by  a 
hearty  dinner,  — 

"  That  is  what  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  says  of  those  who  criticise 
her  paintings,  Mr.  Parsons.  She  told  me  that  it  only  awak- 
ened her  pity.  '  I  feel,'  she  said  when  I  was  at  her  house, 
'  as  a  soaring  angel  feels  if  one  of  us  could  criticise  its 
seraphic  song.  It  would  merely  smile  and  sing.  I  often 
hear  of  their  remarks,'  she  told  me  ;  'and  I  simply  pity  them, 
and  continue  to  paint.'  "  Mr.  Venable  would  not  have  had 
such  a  sparkle  of  malicious  fun  in  his  eyes  if  he  had  known 
how  hard  he  hit  the  lean,  nervous,  and  excitable  old  in- 
ventor. 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  115 

"  Fiddlesticks,  stuff,  and  nonsense  !  "  he  said,  and  vehe- 
mently. "  I  see  that  her  husband  has  told  her  what  I  said 
the  day  we  sailed  to  take  our  last  soundings  off  Hacamac. 
She  is  crazy.  Painting?  pot-pie  !  "  he  added,  with  that  nau- 
sea of  disgust  at  the  eccentricity  of  the  lady  which  only  one 
who  is  himself  eccentric  could  feel.  "  I  have  no  time  for 
such  folly.  What  I  wished  to  say,  Mr.  Venable,  was  in  ref- 
erence to  yourself.  It  is  a  critical  time  with  you,  sir,"  he 
began ;  and  his  guest  saw  that  his  host  was  irritated  by  what 
he  had  said,  into  speaking  even  more  concisely  than  he  had 
intended.  "  You  see  what  a  plain-spoken  man  I  am,"  he 
went  on.  "  In  my  inventions  I  succeed  solely  as  I  get  at 
the  exact  facts  of  the  thing.  As  sure  as  there  is  the  least 
lie  in  my  plans,  whatever  it  is,  the  machine  will  not  work : 
it  hitches  it,  and  drags  it,  and  breaks  every  thing  to  pieces, 
—  that  lie  does.  You  are  very  young,  Mr.  Venable,  and 
flowery.  We  all  know  that  you  are  perfectly  sincere.  But 
you  know  nothing  except  books.  I  had  not  supposed  that 
even  a  girl  could  be  so  ignorant  of  human  nature.  You 
mean  well ;  but  you  are  not  driving  direct  at  any  special 
thing  or  person  in  your  preaching.  What  is  the  good  of 
rambling  over  all  creation,  telling  us  about  the  blossoms, 
the  brooks,  the  clouds,  and  the  stars  ?  It  is  a  variety  upon 
Dr.  Burrows ;  but  people  cannot  live  on  flowers.  As  sure  as 
you  live,  you  must  come  down  to  pork  and  greens.  People 
must  be  fed.  The  sin  and  strain  and  suffering  of  life  are 
steady  and  severe,  and  we  must  have  food.  And  you  must 
condense  your  food  for  us  into  enough  on  Sunday  to  last  us 
through  the  week.  You  must  excuse  me ;  but  I  am  an  old 
man,  and  I  try  to  be  as  practical  with  myself  as  the  cogs 
and  shafts  of  a  mill.  Give  us  what  we  need  !  " 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Parsons,"  his  companion  said.  "  I  am 
obliged  to  you.  But  you  mentioned  Dr.  Burrows.  What, 
between  us,  was  the  matter?  " 

"  Yellow-fever.     It  was  that  which  killed  him." 


Il6  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"  Why,  he  is  living  at  Chemaraw,"  began  the  other. 

"The  Chemaraw  people  called  him,  because  the  St. 
Jerome  people  let  him  go,"  Mr.  Parsons  explained.  "  You 
have  heard  about  the  rivalry  of  the  places  before  this.  Both 
towns,  by  the  by,  are  humbugs ;  and  Hacamac,  as  I've  told 
you,  is  the  only  true  site  for  a  city  in  all  this  region.  But,  if 
ever  a  man  was  killed  dead  by  the  yellow-fever,  Dr.  Burrows 
is  that  man.  He  fled  when  the  fever  came  ;  and  we  had  no 
use  for  him  after  that.  Never  mind  him  now.  I  am  too 
busy  to  see  you  often,  and  I  wanted  to  say  this.  We  all 
like  you ;  but  the  tide  is  sure  to  turn." 

"  Excuse  me,"  the  other  asked,  with  a  sudden  sinking  at 
heart. 

"  The  people  went  almost  crazy  about  you  at  first,"  his  dry 
old  host  continued,  as  they  walked  slowly  along.  "  I  never 
heard  Miss  Aurelia  Jones  quite  so  ardent  in  her  praises  be- 
fore. The  trouble  about  her  is,  that  she  is  always  in  a  blaze. 
She  is  not  content  with  being  a  sincere  and  active  Christian  : 
there  must  be  the  blast  and  crackle  and  flames  of  a  confla- 
gration, or  she  thinks  the  last  spark  has  gone  out.  I  like  en- 
thusiasm ;  but  there  is  something  too  hot,  too  fierce,  in  such 
piety.  There  is  too  much  fever  in  it  for  health  :  you  feel 
all  along  that  there  is  a  strain  the  machinery  cannot  stand. 
Action  is  measured  by  re-action ;  and  Paul  says,  '  Let  your 
moderation  be  known  to  all  men.'  There  is  too  much  of 
the  mere  woman  in  her  religion  ;  and  in  Christ  there  is  nei- 
ther male  nor  female.  But  she  is  only  a  specimen.  Now, 
in  •  good  earnest,  Mr.  Venable,  has  she  got  beyond  book- 
marks yet  ?  Is  it  slippers  by  this  time  ?  Perhaps  she  has 
got  to  a  dressing-gown.  It  may  be  a  horse  next.  Mind  my 
words,  sir,  the  day  will  come,  when  instead  of  replying  to  her 
notes,  thanking  her  a  thousand  times,  as  you  do  now,  you 
will  be  tempted  at  least  to  write  back,  'My  dear  Miss 
Jones,  please  don't !  As  you  love  me,  I  entreat  you  to  let 
me  alone.  I  am  as  grateful  as  a  man  can  be,  but  would 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  1 1/ 

rather  not.'  Not  that  she  is  not"  —  and  Mr.  Parsons  used 
the  highest  eulogium  current  in  that  region,  singular  as  its 
form  was — "a  most  an  excellent  woman;  only  she  is  too 
warm  and  easy  with  her  words,  as  she  is  with  her  tears.  But 
we  won't  speak  of  her  any  more.  When  you  preached  about 
temperance,  and  Mr.  Clarke  poured  his  liquor  in  the  gutter, 
and  you  baptized  him,  it  had  a  wonderful  influence.  You 
are  sincere :  you  are  in  dead  earnest,  Mr.  Venable.  But 
the  time  of  giving  you  slippers  and  dressing-gowns  will  end. 
Dr.  Burrows  had  his  day  of  that.  He  was  a  larger  man  than 
you,  older,  more  experienced,  very  able  in  argument ;  but 
it  all  slackened  and  stopped  in  regard  to  him.  It  will  with 
you.  The  large  majority  of  our  people  are  substantial  and 
sensible.  It  is  the  few  fussy  ones  that  make  all  the  enthusi- 
asm at  first,  and  do  all  the  mischief  at  last.  I  wouldn't  have 
any  very  intimate  friends,  if  I  were  you.  Don't  look  to,  or 
lean  too  much  upon,  Gen.  Buttolph.  You  think  he  is  rich 
and  generous,  and  has  the  highest  opinion  in  the  world  of 
you.  Don't  be  too  certain.  There  are  things  you  know 
nothing  about  yet ;  yes,  many  things,  and  some  very  terrible 
things.  And  don't  be  afraid  of  Commodore  Grandheur,  nor 
other  people  I  might  tell  you  about.  Up  to  the  moment  the 
crash  came,  Dr.  Burrows  was  as  profoundly  ignorant  of  what 
everybody  else,  to  the  very  children,  were  talking  about,  as 
if  he  were  a  baby,  —  a  great  big  baby ;  for  the  doctor  was 
double  your  weight.  When  the  time  comes,  if  it  does,  and 
I  will  let  you  know,  don't  stop  one  instant :  go,  and  go 
like  a  shot." 

• 

"  I  confess  I  was  not  prepared  —  I  did  not  think  "  — 
said  the  other,  sick  to  the  heart,  and  endeavoring  to  hope  it 
was  but  a  part  of  Mr.  Parsons's  eccentricity.  "What  do 
you  advise?  You  take  me  by  surprise." 

"  I  am  terribly  practical,  you  see,"  his  friend  said  with  a 
kindly  glance  at  the  paling  face  of  his  guest,  —  "  too  much 
so  ;  that  is,  I  am  more  rapid  than  the  rest.  I  always  get  to 


Il8  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

a  point  on  the  common  road  long  before  other  people, — 
always.  It  is  only  a  question  of  time.  Slow  and  stupid  as 
people  are,  they  get  there  too,  sooner  or  later.  You  are  full 
of  hope.  I  never  met  a  man  more  ignorant  of  life,  or  quite 
so  full  of  enthusiasm,  or  blind  belief  in  everybody.  And 
you  may  have  a  reserve  power  in  you  to  drive  you  over  the 
bar,  as  the  steamboat  people  say,  when  the  tide  leaves  you 
fast  in  the  mud.  All  I  say  is,  Aim  at  something  ! — to  con- 
vert sinners,  to  help  Christians  in  their  daily  needs;  not 
merely  to  instruct  a  congregation,  or  to  please  them.  When 
you  let  the  people  out  from  a  sermon,  chattering  to  each 
other  as  they  go,  and  delighted  with  themselves  and  you, 
then  you  may  be  sure  you  have  done  them  no  good,  only 
harm  instead.  What  you  want  to  do  is  to  make  them  forget 
you  in  your  message,  and  that  message  will  disgust  them  with 
themselves.  Then  never  fear  any  living  man  or  woman. 
And  the  only  way  is,  get  away  from  all  of  us,  from  yourself 
especially,  by  getting  nearer  to  God,  and  holding  tighter  to 
Christ,  than  you  have  ever  done.  Do  that,  and  there  is 
nothing  to  discourage  you.  That  is  all.  If  there  is  any 
thing  more  to  say,  when  the  time  comes  I  will  tell  you. 
This  is  the  house  where  my  terraqueous  machine  is  kept. 
You  cannot  see  it  yet,  but  I  am  making  up  a  party.  When 
I  am  ready  I'll  let  you  know.  If  we  do  not  have  the  grand- 
est ride  over  this  island  ever  known,  perhaps  over  more 
than  the  island,  I  am  mistaken.  My  wife  won't  go,  but  I 
intend  taking  my  little  Owny  here ; "  and  the  old  father  took 
the  little  girl  from  the  arms  of  Mr.  Venable,  in  which  she  lay 
sound  asleep,  her  fat  cheeks  pillowed  in  a  nest  of  her  own 
hair  upon  his  bosom.  "  No  one  except  my  sworn  work- 
men," the  inventor  added,  looking  at  the  closely  boarded-up 
building  as  a  miser  looks  at  his  chest,  "  has  seen  it.  The 
papers  have  been  full  of  it,  but  I  keep  blood-hounds  in  that 
stable  yonder,  especially  for  reporters :  they  come  prying 
around,  you  see,  at  night.  Next  to  the  focussing  of  flesh, 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  I  19 

I  consider  this  the  discovery,  so  far,  of  my  life.  In  less  than 
a  month  you  shall  ride  in  it  yourself.  It  is  the  grandest 
thing  "  — 

"  Why,  Ezra  Micajah  Papa  ! "  exclaimed  his  small  off- 
spring, wakened  up  in  the  transfer  from  the  one  gentleman 
to  the  other,  and  specially  bright  after  her  nap.  "  My  b'ack 
rooster  c'owed  so  loud  yesterday,  I  crep'  in  dare  to  see  how 
many  eggs  he  laid,  —  crep'  in  by  a  itty  bitty  hole.  It's  nuffin 
at  last,"  said  the  spoiled  beauty,  in  tones  caught  from  her 
mother :  "  your  'chine  is  nuffin  at  all  but  one  gate,  big, 
old  "  — 

At  this  juncture,  her  father  pressed  his  faded  cheek  upon 
her  rosy  mouth,  giving  his  long  left  hand  in  farewell  to  his 
guest.  "Mrs.  Chaffingsby?"  he  added.  "Bah!  Good-by. 
Fiddlesticks  !  Wait  till  you  have  ridden  in  it.  And  don't  be 
offended  at  what  I've  said,"  with  a  cordial  squeeze  of  the 
hand.  "  You  are  more  sensible  than  I  thought ;  and  I  am 
going  to  aim  at  the  priests.  Good-by  ! " 

Mr.  Venable  put  a  pleasant  face  upon  it,  but  he  felt  sore 
as  from  a  beating.  He  walked  wearily  away.  The  re-action 
would  come,  he  would  brace  himself  after  a  day  or  two, 
and  walk  with  head  more  erect,  and  with  firmer  step,  but 
not  yet.  He  went  to  bed  early  after  reaching  Gen.  But- 
tolph's,  but  it  was  not  to  sleep.  Prayer  had  no  calming  in- 
fluence ;  for  prayer  was  being  answered  in  his  case,  as  often 
happens,  by  process, — by  process  long  and  slow  and  very 
severe.  WTe  live  as  long  as  God ;  and  his  processes  have 
the  imperceptible  curve  of  a  circle  which  encloses  eternity. 
Mr.  Venable  endeavored,  as  he  lay  in  bed,  to  think  his  af- 
fairs thoroughly  over. 

Two  months  had  passed  since  he,  Hartman  Venable,  had 
stepped,  so  to  speak,  from  the  deck  of  the  Nautilus  upon  that 
of  the  First  Church  of  St.  Jerome.  It  was  a  critical  time 
indeed.  He  was  coming  to  know  that  the  peril  as  well  as 
charm  of  his  new  home  lay  in  its  tropical  character.  The 


I2O  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

excess  of  light  and  color  and  life,  in  sea  and  sky  and  luxuri- 
ant earth,  was  but  a  condition  of  quivering  re-action  from 
an  equal  excess  of  storm  and  darkness  and  danger.  He  had 
exulted  in  the  sudden  surge,  as  it  were,  since  he  came,  of 
a  measure  of  soul  in  himself  of  which  he  had  not  hitherto 
supposed  himself  possessed.  But  he  was  beginning  to  learn 
that  this  electric  condition  of  things  was  true,  in  all  its  de- 
grees and  varieties,  of  the  blood  and  brain  of  all  others  with 
him  on  the  island. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said  to  himself,  waking  suddenly  out  of 
a  light  sleep,  at  last,  in  the  dead  hour  of  the  night,  "  if  there 
is  not  something  almost  volcanic  in  the  people  as  well  as  in 
the  soil,  —  something  feverish,  at  least  spasmodic,  and  liable 
to  sudden  revulsions.  Miss  Aurelia  Jones  merely  gives  her 
fervor  the  direction  of  an  effusive  piety.  I  am  sincerely 
grateful  to  her ;  but  I  do  wish,  as  Mr.  Parsons  said,  that  she 
would  not  be  so  generous  to  me  :  that  embroidered  sermon- 
cover  is  too  fine,  for  instance.  Mr.  Parsons,  and  Mrs. 
Chaffingsby,  not  to  speak  of  Mr.  Quatty,  seem  to  be  under 
too  tense  a  strain  to  keep  it  always  up.  And  so  am  I.  But 
I  don't  know,  at  last.  These  people  have  been  so  for  years. 
Look  at  the  variety  of  the  cactus  in  every  yard  and  prairie. 
The  queer  plants  seem  like  living  snakes,  almost  venomous 
in  their  thorns,  twisting  and  writhing  themselves  as  if  in 
convulsions  of  oddity  as  well  as  beauty.  They  say  that  three 
of  their  purple  pears  will  insure  an  ague.  Their  blooms  seem 
poisonous  in  the  splendor  of  crimson  and  yellow.  Clear 
Grit,  as  they  call  him,  does  not  seem  like  other  children. 
Look  at  the  lizards  flashing  about,  with  preposterous  horns 
on  their  heads  !  The  very  grass  is  sharp  with  spikes ;  the 
odd-looking  fish  rolled  ashore  by  the  waves  startling  you,  if 
you  touch  them,  with  their  stings.  Then  those  tarantulas  ! 
who  ever  dreamed  of  spiders  as  big  as  a  saucer,  as  hairy  as 
a  bear,  throwing  themselves  at  you  with  red  and  clashing 
jaws  ?  And  the  idea  of  a  centipede  armed  in  lapping  coats 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  121 

of  mail,  lovely  as  a  fragment  of  rainbow,  yet  gripping  your 
naked  foot,  and  spurting  deadly  venom  into  your  blood 
through  its  legs .'  Now,  these  things  have  lived  here  from 
creation.  Mr.  Farce  Fanthorp  has  always  been  a  mimic,  I 
suppose.  Commodore  Grandheur  would  be  a  commodore 
anywhere.  And  why  am  I  so  nervous  in  regard  to  Miss 
Aurelia  Jones,  —  Mr.  Parsons  only  said  about  her  what  I 
had  already  thought,  —  the  most  fervent  soul  I  ever  knew  out- 
side of  biography?  There  are  people  of  marked  character 
everywhere.  It  is  because  I  have  been  cooped  up  in  college 
hitherto,  and  am  green  and  inexperienced.  I  think  they 
will  find  that  I  can  learn,"  he  added  coolly. 

But  at  this  point  in  his  midnight  reflections  Mr.  Venable 
laughed  at  his  accident  with  the  towel.  In  wiping  his  face 
one  morning  after  washing,  to  his  horror  something  had 
fastened  upon  his  nose  with  a  sharp  pain.  Seizing  upon 
and  dashing  it  on  the  floor,  he  saw  it  was  a  scorpion.  A 
glance  was  enough  to  show  him  that  it  was  an  accurately 
scriptural  scorpion,  the  picture  of  which  he  had  often  shud- 
dered at  in  his  Bible  Dictionary.  He  blushed  now  to  recall 
Irene  Buttolph's  paroxysms  of  mirth  when  he  had  gone  down 
stairs.  It  was  not  worse  than  the  sting  of  a  wasp,  at  last ; 
and  he  had  arranged  the  order  of  his  dying  words  ! 

Another  mishap  was  too  bad.  A  young  girl  had  urged 
him  one  day  to  call  and  induce  her  mother  to  attend 
church.  But  the  Providence  which  never  sleeps  had 
prompted  him  to  take  Mr.  Nogens  with  him.  The  in- 
stant they  entered  the  house,  they  saw  their  sad  mis- 
take !  The  recoil  of  the  slatternly  harlot  therein  from 
them  was  as  instinctive  as  theirs  from  her.  Not  a  word 
was  spoken ;  they  were  not  in  the  door  one  minute ;  but  the 
heart  of  the  young  man  almost  stood  still  with  the  extremity 
of  his  peril,  and  then  leaped  with  energetic  gratitude  at 
having  taken  Mr.  Nogens  with  him.  He  fancied  that  even 
the  sallow,  set  face  of  that  officer  of  his  church  had  taken 


122  A    YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

a  tinge  of  green  as  they  walked  rapidly  away,  not  daring 
to  glance  around  for  shame.  Such  a  hair-breadth  escape 
surpassed  all  former  experiences.  He  well  knew  that  one 
syllable  of  it,  had  he  in  his  ignorance  been  there  alone, 
would  have  slain  him  as  a  minister,  on  the  spot,  and  forever, 
and  like  lightning. 

"  How  could  I  tell,"  he  said  to  Mr.  Nogens,  in  the  agony 
of  the  moment,  "  who  she  was  ?  She  staid  behind  to  con- 
verse with  me  after  Sunday  school.  I  saw  that  she  was  not 
more  than  twelve  years  of  age,  a  singularly  intelligent  child. 
She  was  so  deeply  interested  in  the  subject  of  religion,  con- 
versed so  earnestly  and  with  such  sincerity  too,  that  I  never 
dreamed  of — of"  —  and  it  was  all  he  could  say.  But,  to 
all  he  said  in  his  excitement,  Mr.  Nogens  replied,  "  Yes." 
And  the  other  blessed  Mr.  Nogens  that  he  was  Mr.  Nogens ; 
and,  in  an  incidental  way,  he  silently  poured  benedictions 
upon  the  head  of  Mrs.  Nogens,  too,  for  being  so  deaf  that 
her  husband,  even  if  he  had  tried  ever  so  hard,  could  never 
make  her  understand  about  their  blunder. 

But  at  this  juncture  the  fevered  mind  of  the  wakeful  man 
as  he  lay  upon  his  bed  chanced,  in  its  tossings  and  turnings, 
upon  Mrs.  Chaffingsby.  The  instant,  however,  that  he  en- 
tered in  imagination  her  door,  the  absurd  pictures  upon  the 
walls  were  forgotten  in  the  loveliness  of  Clara  Chaffingsby. 
And  so  he  went  over  every  curl  of  her  hair,  every  curve  of 
her  perfect  face,  and  lay  quiet  in  his  restlessness  while  he 
gazed  again  deeper  down  into  her  marvellous  eyes.  But 
she  had  scarcely  spoken,  merely  smiled;  and  he  reverted 
suddenly  to  Zeo  Buttolph,  matronly  to  see  at  meal-times, 
low-spoken  and  quiet.  But  between  her  and  himself  the 
tall  form  of  Gov.  Magruder  insisted  upon  interposing  itself. 
Very  well.  How  beautiful  was  Clara  Chaffingsby !  how 
brilliant  and  intellectual  and  well-read  was  Irene  Buttolph  ! 
And  she  saw  the  points  of  his  sermons,  —  saw  and  appre- 
ciated his  beautiful  ideas  as  swiftly  as  himself.  Not  as  beau- 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  123 

tiful,  physically,  as  Clara;  but  what  a  charming  frankness, 
what  a  bold  yet  beautiful  outspokenness  in  regard  to  all  that 
interested  him  most !  —  the  face  of  Clara  Chaffingsby  com- 
ing and  going  through  it  all.  But  once  more  Zeo  Buttolph 
came  into  his  thoughts,  and  came  like  a  Zenobia  indeed,  — 
came  driving  like  a  victorious  empress  over  Irene  and 
Clara  and  all  the  world,  himself  most  of  all. 

"  I  will  try,"  he  said.  "  It  is  desperate  odds  against  the 
governor  and  Col.  Roland ;  but  I  will  try,  must  try  as  I  must 
breathe,  if  the  universe  is  against  me." 

Suddenly  Mr.  Phip  Quatty  arose,  unasked,  in  his  medita- 
tions, —  arose  tall  and  sunburned,  waved  everybody  aside, 
persisted  in  being  heard.  Mr.  Venable  thought  of  all  that 
took  place  last  Wednesday  night  at  prayer-meeting,  and  of 
what  was  sure  to  take  place  next  Wednesday  evening, — 
thought  of  it,  and  laughed  aloud ;  and  as  he  laughed,  young 
Plenty,  to  his  astonishment,  knocked,  and  came  in  with  his 
coffee  hot  and  fragrant,  —  the  stalwart  black  man  so  much 
too  big  for  a  task  such  as  that.  It  was  time  to  get  up. 


124  A   YEAR  WORTH   LIVING. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MR.   PHIP  QUATTY   FEELS   IT  TO   BE  HIS  DUTY  TO  MAKE  A 
FEW   REMARKS. 

IT  was  the  Wednesday  night  following  upon  Mr.  Venable's 
visit  to  Mr.  Parsons's  place.  The  large  and  handsomely 
furnished  vestry  of  the  First  Church  was  rapidly  filling  for 
prayer-meeting.  Before  the  new  pastor  came  to  St.  Jerome 
the  people  would  arrive  as  it  suited  them,  up  to  the  hour  of 
closing;  but  their  new  minister  let  no  man  despise  his 
youth  in  this,  that,  having  given  notice  to  that  effect,  he 
began  the  exercises  to  the  instant,  even  if  Commodore 
Thomas  William  Grandheur  himself  had  not  as  yet  come  in. 
This  promptness  was  resented  at  first ;  but  when  we  come  to 
see  that  an  object,  a  man  or  any  thing  else,  is  iron  and  oak, 
we  accept  and  yield  to  it  as  such.  Mr.  Venable  had  been 
sorely  smitten  by  the  plain  talk  of  the  inventor ;  it  bruised 
and  sickened  him  to  the  soul :  but  it  did  him  good,  and  he 
was  all  the  stronger  for  it. 

"  How  profoundly  ignorant  I  am  of  the  hearts  of  these 
people  !  "  he  could  not  help  saying  to  himself  during  the 
singing  of  the  first  hymn.  "  They  seem  so  kind  and  polite. 
They  sing  heartily,  and  pray,  some  of  them,  fervently ;  yet 
some  of  these,  I  know,  dislike  me.  I  do  not  know  who 
they  are,  how  deep  their  aversion,  nor  how  right,  for  that 
matter,  they  are  in  it ;  nor  do  I  know  how  active  and  suc- 
cessful they  may  be  in  disaffecting  the  rest.  I  am  sorry  I 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  125 

came.  I  am  not  sorry  I  came  !  My  Master  placed  me 
here.  I  dare  say  it  would  be  the  same  in  every  charge. 
What  is  the  sense  of  trying  to  look  down  into  an  abyss,  trem- 
bling miserably,  and  exhausting  myself  with  peering  over  the 
edge  ?  I  will  do,  day  by  day,  the  very  best  I  know  how, 
clinging  as  close  as  I  can  to  "  —  and  his  voice  rose  in  the 
hymn  as  strong  and  clear  as  that  of  Miss  Aurelia  Jones  her- 
self. And  yet,  through  all  the  verses,  had  his  heart  put 
itself  into  words,  the  congregation  would  have  been  stupe- 
fied by  hearing  from  him  a  solo  somewhat  intermittently  to 
this  effect :  — 

"There  is  the  Commodore.  How  stout  and  erect  he 
looks,  settled  down  in  his  front  seat !  With  his  gold-headed 
cane  between  his  knees,  he  fills,  with  his  velvet  waistcoat  and 
watch-chain,  the  channel  between  me  and  the  people,  —  a 
sort  of  dam  to  check  the  current  from  my  heart.  .  .  .  May 
God  forgive  my  wandering  thoughts  !  .  .  .  With  what  fervor 
Miss  Aurelia  Jones  sings  !  How  she  fires  all  around  !  Yet 
how  little  I  know  of  the  instant  in  which  her  feelings  may 
be  reversed,  and  pour  as  ardently  against  me  !  I  don't  won- 
der people  shrink  and  smile  at  each  other  as  they  sing. 
Yonder  is  Mr.  Quatty.  We  will  have  to  be  very  prompt  to 
prevent  .  .  .  Forgive  my  foolish  fancies,  but  what  a  com- 
fort it  is  to  see  Gen.  Buttolph  in  his  seat :  he  is  so  large  and 
genial  and  firm  !  That  is  one  substantial  bulwark  of  things, 
at  least.  No  Irene  here  to-night.  Always  at  church,  and 
appreciating  my  sermons  so.  I  wish  she  would  come  to 
prayer-meeting,  at  least  now  and  then.  .  .  .  What  a  regular 
attendant  Miss  Zeo  is,  though  I  wish  she  would  say  more 
about  my  sermons  than  she  does  !  I  wonder  why  she  brings 
Grit  with  her :  he  always  goes  to  sleep.  .  .  .  There  is  old 
Father  Fethero,  at  last,  behind  his  blue  spectacles.  What 
a  pity  a  minister  should  retire  from  his  ministry  into  the 
seclusion  of  such  dismal  despondency  !  It  would  have  been 
so  much  better  for  him  to  have  gone  to  heaven.  But  I  dare 


126  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

say  he  would  gladly  have  done  so  if  he  could.  —  Father 
Fethero,  will  you  lead  us  in  prayer?"  This  last,  however, 
was  said  aloud. 

Mr.  Venable  waits  patiently  as  the  person  called  upon 
coughs  in  response,  slowly  draws  an  enormous  silk  handker- 
chief from  his  pocket,  blows  his  nose,  coughs  once  more, 
and  very  deliberately  arises.  He  is  an  old  man  :  his  hair,  in 
which  is  a  dying  struggle  between  the  original  red  and  the 
white  of  years,  is  in  strong  contrast  with  his  large  blue  spec- 
tacles, and  face  furrowed  and  beaten  and  burned  into  a  per- 
manent red  by  forty  years  of  exposure.  He  wears  a  white 
neckerchief,  somewhat  yellow  and  frayed  out ;  and  his  black 
broadcloth  is  very  sleek  with  wear,  and  quite  shiny,  especially 
at  the  knees.  Whenever  his  name  was  mentioned  at  Gen. 
Buttolph's,  Irene  was  sure  to  laugh,  and  say,  "  I  plainly  per- 
ceive a  gloom  ! "  that  being  an  expression  often  used  by 
Father  Fethero  ;  all  his  utterances,  in  fact,  being  but  varia- 
tions of  that.  He  had  entered  upon  his  training  for  the 
ministry,  as  Mr.  Venable  had  learned,  very  young,  and  had 
taken  the  complete  number  of  years  at  college  and  seminary. 
No  graduate  had  mastered  more  laboriously  all  the  Greek, 
Hebrew,  and  theology,  systematic,  exegetic,  polemic,  patris- 
tic, didactic,  homiletic,  hermaneutic,  and  the  rest.  Yet 
Father  Fethero  had  not  enjoyed  a  successful  ministry.  Peo- 
ple said  he  was  as  good  a  man  as  Mr.  Nogens,  better,  if  that 
were  possible.  No  disciple  since  Paul  had  labored  harder. 
For  many  and  many  a  weary  year,  in  the  manifold  changes 
of  his  life,  he  had  ridden  through  river  bottom  and  cypress 
swamp ;  among  the  mountains  or  piney  woods,  prairies  or 
post-oaks,  as  the  case  might  be,  to  his  "  appointments  "  at 
mills  and  cross-roads,  court-houses  and  school ;  experien- 
cing all  weathers  and  housing,  feeding  and  sleeping,  known 
to  men  in  that  western  region.  The  years  of  hard  work,  of 
small  pay,  of  mortifications  still  more  bitter,  of  little  apparent 
success,  which  was  bitterest  of  all  by  far,  —  all  this  had  worn 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  I2/ 

him  out.  His  self-respect  had  been  sorely  tried  under  the 
heedless  heels  of  man,  and  for  so  long.  Starting  out  a 
learned  man,  he  had  been  ground  through  a  series  of  candi- 
datings  for  vacant  pulpits ;  which,  like  the  revolutions  of  a 
steel  mill,  had  taken  off  from  him  every  kernel  of  originality, 
as  the  grain  of  corn  is  cut  from  the  cob.  Not  a  gesture,  not 
a  tone,  not  a  phrase  familiar  to  his  lip  and  heart,  not  a  kind 
of  argument  or  form  of  persuasion,  appeal  or  pathos,  —  in  a 
word,  not  a  peculiarity  of  the  man,  even  those  the  most 
essential  to  his  individuality,  but  had  been  hit,  and  severely, 
until  he  had  at  last  given  up  himself  in  every  point  and 
long  ago,  as,  in  every  square  inch  of  his  person,  a  dead  fail- 
ure. Although  he  had  been  compelled  to  take  in  that  belief 
(that  unbelief  rather)  in  regard  to  himself,  as  by  and  in  and 
at  every  pore  of  his  skin,  yet,  with  strange  perversity,  he  could 
not  but  feel  as  if  in  some  dim  way,  and  against  all  the  world, 
he  was  at  last  not  as  worthless  as  people  supposed.  Of  his 
almost  desperate  desire  to  do  good,  he  was  sure.  And  ah  ! 
in  what  agonizing  prayer,  with  strong  crying  and  tears,  he 
had  lain  whole  days  of  fasting,  long  nights  through  of  prayer, 
God  knew,  and  he  knew.  That  was  his  consolation,  that 
God  did  know.  He  had  about  given  up  the  struggle  now. 
Through  his  blue  spectacles  he  was  looking  to  another 
world  ;  and  a  goodly  part  of  his  anticipations  of  heaven  lay 
in  this,  that  the  Master  would  there  explain  to  him  why, 
although  he  had  loved  that  Master  so  well,  and  had  tried  so 
hard  and  so  long  to  serve  him,  such  small  success  had  been 
granted  him.  And  thus  he  was  spending,  with  a  widowed 
daughter  in  St.  Jerome,  the  darkening  evening  of  a  day  which 
had  never  been  bright.  It  was  by  reason  of  all  this  that  Mr. 
Venable  treated  the  old  man,  to  the  astonishment  of  St.  Jer- 
ome, which  had  so  long  regarded  Father  Fethero  as  an  object 
of  pitying  amusement,  with  the  tenderness  of  marked  respect ; 
always  giving  him  the  first  place  at  prayer-meeting,  as  every- 
where else,  so  far  as  was  possible.  It  was  the  harder  to  do, 


128  A   YEAR  WORTH   LIVING. 

as  Father  Fethero  had  been  de-educated,  so  to  speak,  by  the 
severe  stress  of  his  troublous  life ;  had  lost  not  only  his 
Greek,  Latin,  and  Hebrew,  but  a  correct  use  of  his  English 
as  well. 

By  reason  of  Mr.  Venable's  kindness,  the  prayer  of  the  old 
man  was  not  as  mournful  in  its  set  phrases  as  it  used  to  be. 
He  stood  with  his  brown  and  wrinkled  hands  clasped  to- 
gether, lifted  up  and  being  let  fall  in  the  swell  and  subsi- 
dence of  his  supplications  ;  the  tears  trickling  down,  as  from 
long  use  they  very  easily  did,  toward  the  close  of  his  prayer ; 
conscious,  somehow,  as  he  told  over  the  sins  and  backslid- 
ings  and  sorrowful  prospects  of  the  world  of  Christians,  and 
of  those  of  the  First  Church  in  particular,  that  the  heart  of 
the  minister  at  least  was  with  his.  The  prayer  was  far  too 
long.  Mr.  Venable  winced  at  the  speciality  of  the  petitions, 
"  For  this  our  brother,  so  young  and  inexperienced  and  un- 
tried of  affliction  as  yet ; "  but  he  imbued,  as  it  were,  all 
present  with  his  own  loving  respect  for  the  worn  veteran. 

"  If,  now,  we  can  only  manage  Phip  Quatty  "  —  That 
was  the  thought  of  the  pastor,  as  well  as  of  every  soul  pres- 
ent, when  old  Father  Fethero  had  safely  landed,  as  was  his 
wont,  all  there  in  heaven,  and  had  ended  his  prayer.  That 
was  the  hope  of  even  Mr.  Quatty  himself. 

In  that,  as  in  many  a  church,  there  were  laymen,  unedu- 
cated laymen  too,  who  could  speak,  and  did  speak,  at  meet- 
ings, with  a  practical  sense  and  power  which  made  them 
of  invaluable  service.  Heaven  has  in  too  many  cases  set 
the  seal  of  its  approval  to  the  commission  of  such,  to  doubt 
their  right  and  duty  to  speak,  —  a  seal  in  many  instances  of 
success  so  broad  and  clearly  cut,  that  none  can  hesitate  as 
to  whether  or  no  their  credentials  have  issued  from  the  Head 
of  the  Church.  But  Mr.  Quatty  was,  alas  !  an  exception  to 
this  rule.  He  was  no  more  an  Eldad  in  the  camp,  or  an  in- 
spired Medad,  than  he  was  a  Moses.  He  had  received,  in 
reference  to  his  speaking,  many  hints,  strong  and  indignant 


A   YEAR  WORTH   LIVING.  1 29 

remonstrances  as  well,  and  had  come  into  the  room  resolved, 
as  he  always  was  at  the  outset,  not  to  say  a  word.  But  the 
earnest  deprecation  of  divine  judgment  on  the  part  of  Father 
Fethero,  to  say  nothing  of  the  singing,  had  greatly  quick- 
ened him.  In  fact,  Mr.  Quatty's  solemn  promises  to  his 
wife  on  their  way  to  church,  in  regard  to  "holding  his 
tongue  to-night,"  were  but  as  those  of  a  man  liable  to  anger 
in  regard  to  his  wrath,  or  of  a  drunkard  in  relation  to  his 
temptations.  No*  one  could  make  a  more  deliberate,  not  to 
say  desperate,  resolve,  than  did  Mr.  Quatty. 

"  No,  Sally,  not  one  word  ! "  he  said  to  his  wife.  "  Why, 
sir,"  he  would  often  say  to  Capt.  Chaffin  or  to  Mr.  Parsons, 
in  reply  to  stringent  suggestions  on  the  part  especially  of 
the  inventor,  — "  every  Wednesday  night,  before  I  go  to 
prayer-meeting,  I  kneel  down  in  my  little  office  there  at 
my  livery-stable,  and  ask  God  to  help  me  hold  my  tongue. 
But  the  moment  I  get  in  the  vestry !  I  suppose  it  is  the 
lights,  the  room  being  crowded  full  of  people ;  but  I  can- 
not help  it !  Some  Scripture  is  read,  somebody  makes  a 
remark ;  and,  if  any  man  would  say  what  I  want  to  have 
somebody  say,  do  you  think  I  would  speak?  not  a  bit  of  it. 
No,  sir  !  It  is  not  that  I  want  to  speak,  —  to  please  myself, 
you  mind.  The  duty  is  so  plain  !  I  think  of  something 
pat  to  the  purpose.  It  is  something  which  ought  to  be  said, 
must  be  said.  It  is  wicked  to  leave  a  thing  like  that  unsaid. 
Thank  God,  I've  given  up  swearing ;  but  this  comes  to  my 
tongue  then,  a  thousand  times  more  natural  than  a  curse 
ever  did.  It's  no  use  :  I'd  speak  if  you  held  a  derringer  to 
my  head." 

It  is  the  knowledge  that  Mr.  Quatty  lurks  like  a  panther 
in  the  jungles  of  the  back  seats,  with  ever-increasing  eager- 
ness to  speak,  ready  to  spring  upon  the  meeting  and  destroy 
it,  for  that  time  at  least,  which  gives  a  certain  nervousness 
to  all  present.  There  is  no  fear  until  after  Mr.  Venable  has 
read  Scripture,  and  made  his  ten  minutes  of  explanation 


I3O  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

and  application.  And  they  are  safe  during  the  hymn  that 
follows.  But  the  last  verse  is  sung  with  apprehension  ;  and 
there  is  a  moment  of  relief  as  Capt.  Chaffin,  on  the  occa- 
sion of  which  we  are  speaking,  says,  "  Let  us  pray,"  before 
the  last  line  is  well  ended.  The  chorister,  who  is  also  the 
organist  on  Sundays,  is  ordinarily  somewhat  stolid.  But  he 
has  been  reminded  and  urged,  too  often  to  fail ;  and,  with 
Capt.  Chaffin's  "  Amen,"  he  strikes  a  chord  upon  the  melo- 
deon,  and  all  are  safely  launched  into  anSther  hymn.  The 
only  thing  the  people  can  blame  Mr.  Nogens  for  is,  that, 
knowing  so  well  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  he  is  not 
more  prompt  in  the  prayer  he  makes  next,  and  which,  with 
small  variation,  he  has  made  for  many  years.  Then  Mr. 
Clarke,  the  reformed  liquor-seller,  is  sure  to  make  a  few 
practical  remarks,  especially  upon  the  danger  of  intemper- 
ance. The  chorister  has  his  hands  on  the  keys  of  the  in- 
strument. A  familiar  note  sounds  before  Mr.  Clarke  has 
well  done  ;  and  the  audience,  becoming  more  interested  as 
the  meeting  proceeds,  are  beginning  to  forget  Mr.  Quatty 
behind  there. 

The  First  Church  has  dozens  of  men  in  all  degrees  of 
wealth,  education,  social  position,  and  piety,  who  are  able 
to  take  part.  They  are  trained  to  the  emergency ;  and  now 
one  and  then  another  offers  prayer  or  makes  a  brief  remark. 
The  meeting  deepens  in  interest.  Good  Mrs.  Quatty,  an 
uneducated  but  sensible  woman,  tightens  her  hold  upon  her 
husband's  arm.  For  Mr.  Quatty  is  chewing  his  tobacco 
now  as  if  it  were  good  ;  shifting  it  from  one  side  to  the  other 
of  his  mouth,  instead  of  letting  his  quid  lie  quietly  in  the 
corner  thereof.  He  spits  more  and  more  energetically  and 
frequently  into  the  spittoon  between  his  legs,  shifting  his  feet 
and  hands.  The  hour  draws  near  to  close.  It  has  been  an 
excellent  meeting.  Commodore  Grandheur  is  actually  rising 
to  sum  up,  as  is  his  wont,  and  then  make  the  closing  prayer. 
It  is  impossible,  however,  people  fear,  for  a  man  of  his  weight 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  13! 

and  dignity  of  bearing  to  be  as  rapid  as  he  knows  he  should 
be. 

Mr.  Venable  had  observed  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  in  a  front 
seat.  He  had  noticed  her  the  more,  as  she  rarely  attended ; 
and  he  had  been  struck  with  this  peculiarity  in  the  little,  pale- 
faced  woman,  that  she  seemed  wholly  uninterested  in  the 
services.  In  his  solid  way,  her  husband  sings,  listens,  bows 
motionless  during  prayer ;  but  his  wife  is  nervous  and  rest- 
less. Mr.  Venable  is  glancing  at  her  while  Commodore 
Grandheur  is  in  the  act  of  rising.  As  he  looks,  he  sees  her 
suddenly  sink  in  a  limp  and  helpless  way  into  the  corner  of 
her  seat,  her  head  falling  to  one  side  as  if  she  had  been 
struck.  But  her  pastor  needs  no  explanation.  Mr.  Quatty 
can  hold  in  no  longer.  He  has  broken  from  his  wife's  tight- 
ening hold ;  has  been  deaf  to  her  earnest,  "  Phip,  don't, 
don't !  "  and  Commodore  Grandheur  is  constrained  to  sink, 
even  in  the  act  of  his  preliminary  "  ahem,"  into  his  seat,  for 
Mr.  Quatty  has  the  floor. 

"Excuse  me,  brethren,"  he  says,  plump  and  positive. 
"  We  are  about  to  close,  but  I  cannot  refrain  from  adding  a 
few  remarks.  As  you  all  may  know,  I  was  once  an  oyster- 
man.  Yes,  friends,  little  as  you  may  think  it,  I  made  my 
living  by  dredging  for  oysters.  Sometimes  for  clams.  An 
oysterman  !  And  if  there  ever  was  a  cursing  and  swearing, 
yes,  lying  and  almost  stealing  and  murdering,  scoundrel, 
your  humble  speaker  was  that  man  !  One  day  a  man  hap- 
pened along.  I  was  an  oysterman,  remember.  He  said  to 
me, '  Under  all  your  rough  ways  I  see  that  you,  sir,  are  a  gen- 
tleman and  a  scholar.'  Which,"  Mr.  Quatty  added,  as  if  that 
were  apology  enough  for  speaking,  "  which,"  with  slow  and 
deep  emphasis,  "  I  am  not !  " 

It  was  sad ;  for  the  young  people  had  their  heads  down 
upon  the  pews  before  them,  laughing  at  the  well-known 
words  with  which  Mr.  Quatty  always  began.  Father  Fethero 
had  turned  his  blue  spectacles  sorrowfully  toward  the  speaker. 


132  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

Capt.  Chaffin  was  openly  fanning  his  wife,  his  arm  around 
her  drooping  form.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  chorister  had 
struck  a  key  when  the  commodore  sank  back  into  his  seat ; 
for  there  was  such  force  in  the  words,  so  evidently  from 
the  heart,  of  the  tall,  brown-visaged,  thoroughly  in  earnest 
interrupter,  that  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  listen.  A 
thunder-storm  would  have  seemed  as  irresistible  ;  and  the  one 
idea  in  every  mind  was,  how  to  get  out  of  the  rain  as  soon 
as  possible.  But  there  is  this  to  be  said  for  honest  as  well 
as  earnest  Mr.  Quatty.  All  his  soul  lay  in  the  first  outgush. 
The  torrent  rose  rapidly  in  him,  broke  over  all  resolves,  and 
poured  itself  out  over  demolished  barriers,  yet  exhausted 
itself  by  its  violence.  The  stranger  who  had  so  flatteringly 
entered  into  conversation  with  him  had  been  some  good 
Christian,  whose  acquaintance  had  resulted  in  Mr.  Quatty's 
conversion.  But  somehow  the  narrator  always  slackened  in 
speech  as  he  proceeded,  rambled  more  and  more  wildly,  and 
finally  sat  down  in  confusion.  Possibly  the  counter  influ- 
ences without  him  were  too  strong,  for  they  were  very  strong. 
In  any  case,  the  conclusions  of  Mr.  Quatty's  remarks  were 
by  no  means  equal  to  the  energy  of  their  beginning.  And 
that  was  his  trouble  :  having  not  said,  when  he  tried,  all  that 
he  intended,  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to  seize 
upon  the  earliest  opportunity  afterward,  or  make  one,  in 
which  to  do  so. 

"  O  Phip,  Phip,  Phip  !  "  It  was  all  his  wife  could  say, 
and  that  was  merely  a  groan,  as  they  walked  home. 

"Couldn't  help  it,  Sally,"  was  his  only  consolation  in 
reply. 

Before  pronouncing  the  benediction,  notice  was  given,  on 
this  occasion  by  the  pastor,  that  "  the  officers  of  the  church 
will  remain  behind  for  the  transaction  of  important  busi- 
ness ;  "  and  the  congregation  slowly  departs,  whispering, 
laughing,  looking  with  curious  eyes  at  the  officials,  who 
group  themselves  about  the  pastor. 


A   YEAR  WORTH   LIVING.  133 

"  Ahem  ! "  Commodore  Grandheur  begins,  before  the  sex- 
ton can  shut  the  doors  upon  the  retiring  people.  "  Ahem, 
brethren  !  It  was  at  my  request  the  notice  was  given.  You 
already  know  what  is  intended.  It  is  insufferable  !  It  is 
disgraceful !  We  have  endured  this  thing  until  we  have 
become  the  laughing-stock  of  the  world,  —  of  the  city,  I 
mean.  Miserable  man !  Wretched  creature !  Intolerable 
nuisance  !  As  you  observe,  brethren,"  the  commodore 
adds,  his  face  pale  with  rage,  grasping  his  cane  as  if  it  were  a 
weapon,  "  I  am  perfectly  calm.  I  remember  where  we  are, 
and  am  entirely  cool.  But  we  cannot  stand  it !  For  one,  I 
will  not !  No,  sir  !  "  He  addresses  himself  to  Mr.  Nogens ; 
and  that  official  closes  his  eyes,  and  purses  his  lips  more  and 
more  tightly,  his  forefinger  feeling  for  the  curl  on  his  fore- 
head to  be  sure  that  his  wig  is  safe,  as  the  irate  commodore 
waxes  warmer  and  warmer,  until,  at  the  final  burst  of  the 
other's  wrath,  his  eyes  and  lips  are  drawn  into  knots ;  and, 
when  the  denunciation  is  ended,  he  opens  his  eyes  and 
mouth  again,  and  says,  "Yes."  The  rest  of  the  officers 
laugh,  and  then  look  grave. 

"What  do  you  propose,  sir?"  the  pastor  asks  seriously. 

"Propose,  sir?  I  demand  the  suspension,  deposition,  ex- 
pulsion, of  the  man.  Immediately,  sir  !  Upon  the  spot,  sir  ! " 
The  commodore  says  it  angrily,  his  brown  face  all  aglow  in 
contrast  with  his  white  moustache,  which  bristles  with  indig- 
nation. "  I  do  now  demand  his  instant  —  excommunica- 
tion ! "  and  the  word  is  emphasized  with  a  thump  on  the 
floor  with  the  cane,  which  startles  the  sexton  in  the  vesti- 
bule, yawning,  and  wishing  them  to  get  done. 

Whereupon  follows  a  long  discussion,  in  which  amuse- 
ment mingles  on  the  part  of  the  rest.  When  the  subject  is 
exhausted,  Mr.  Venable  points  out  that  certain  forms  of 
church-law  have  to  be  followed,  and  adds,  "  An  idea  has 
occurred  to  me.  If  Commodore  Grandheur  will  kindly 
allow  me,  I  am  sure  I  can  arrange  the  matter  "  — 


134  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"  Sir  !  arrange  the  rpatter  !  "  The  commodore  interrupts 
him  and  with  violence.  "  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  Arrange  ! 
I  do  not  understand  you,  sir  !  " 

The  old  gentleman  is  greatly  excited.  The  veins  upon 
his  forehead  are  swollen.  It  is  not  merely  his  eyes  which 
seem  larger :  his  whole  person  has  suddenly  broadened  as 
well  as  become  taller.  There  is  an  uneasy  feeling  on  the 
air.  Here  is  a  declaration  of  war.  Mr.  Nogens  in  his 
alarm  looks,  without  being  addressed,  from  face  to  face, 
and  says,  "  Yes." 

The  pastor  had  never  before  been  spoken  to  in  such 
tones.  On  the  instant  he,  too,  is  angry,  —  enraged,  if  the 
truth  must  be  told.  The  officials  wince,  and  let  their  eyes 
fall  as  they  see  how  livid  his  face  has  become.  His  lips  are 
suddenly  so  dry  that  he  moistens  them  with  his  tongue  be- 
fore he  can  speak ;  his  chin  works,  his  hands  are  clenched. 

"Brethren,"  he  says  at  last,  slowly  and  distinctly,  "I 
mean  no  disrespect  to  any  one.  Mr.  Quatty  is  a  trouble- 
some man  in  this  one  respect.  In  every  other  regard  he  is 
an  excellent  man  and  a  devoted  Christian.  If  you  will  allow 
me,  as  I  said,  to  try,  I  think  I  can  so  arrange,  yes,  arrange 
it,  as  that  you  will  have  no  more  trouble.  Will  you  suffer 
me  to  try?  " 

There  is  that  in  the  manner  which  gives  force  to  the 
words,  and  the  meeting  dissolves  upon  that  basis.  But  as 
the  commodore  wheels  and  departs,  more  like  a  squadron 
than  an  individual,  all  feel  that  war  impends  indeed.  Mr. 
Quatty  may  be  silenced,  but  a  more  determined  foe  is  in 
the  field. 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  135 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MR.   VENABLE   SOARS   AMONG  THE   STARS,    WHILE   ZEO   BUTTOLPH 
DESCENDS   IN   QUITE   ANOTHER   DIRECTION. 

IT  is  the  Sunday  afternoon  following  upon  Mr.  Quatty's 
remarks  at  prayer-meeting.  Zeo  Buttolph  is  alone  in 
her  room.  She  has  not  slept  the  night  before  ;  and  now  sits 
beside  her  bed,  upon  which  lies  an  open  Bible.  She  has 
knelt  in  prayer,  and  risen  weariedly,  and  knelt  once  more  to 
pray  more  earnestly ;  the  tears  trickling  between  the  hands 
which  are  clasped  over  her  face,  as  she  leans  her  head  upon 
the  bedside.  At  last  she  gets  up,  bathes  her  hands  and  face 
slowly,  arranges  her  disordered  hair,  sits  down  again,  her 
Bible  lying  in  her  lap,  her  young  head  bowed  down  in  tired 
and  sorrowful  thought.  She  is  dark  and  grave,  but  the 
seriousness  of  her  aspect  is  full  as  ever  of  sweetness.  Under 
the  anxiety,  there  is  the  calm  and  the  purity  of  a  settled  pur- 
pose ;  the  shadows  resting  upon  her  are  no  more  a  part  of 
herself  than  are  those  which  an  overhanging  willow  casts 
upon  a  stream,  a  portion  of  the  stream.  Even  as  she  sits 
and  thinks,  her  eye  falls  upon  some  passage  in  the  open  vol- 
ume, and  grows  brighter  as  she  reads.  She  lifts  her  face, 
and  gazes  upon  a  portrait  of  her  mother,  returning  steadily 
its  loving  look.  Some  sudden  hope  slowly  illumines  her 
face.  It  is  as  if  the  wind  had  lifted  the  willows,  letting  the 
sun  in  upon  the  pure  water ;  and  it  is  easy  to  see  that  bright- 
ness is  the  nature  of  the  woman,  shadow  only  the  transient 
accident. 


136  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

The  cloud  falls  again  as  her  sister  breaks,  laughing,  into 
the  room.  On  the  instant  you  see,  that,  of  the  two,  the  elder 
is  the  least  like  their  mother  portrayed  above  them.  It  is 
the  more  singular,  as,  if  you  were  to  see  the  father  and  his 
two  daughters  together,  you  would  observe  that  it  is  the 
younger  who  is  most  like  the  general  also.  In  some  subtle 
sense,  Zeo  is  most  like  both  father  and  mother ;  and  that 
although  the  parents  have  not  the  least  resemblance  to  each 
other. 

"  Oh,  me,  I  feared  so  !  "  Irene  exclaims  at  sight  of  her  sis- 
ter, and  in  tones  of  vexation. 

"  I  cannot  help  it,  Irene,"  the  other  says  gently.  "  And 
I  am  glad  you  came  in,"  she  adds,  with  the  accent  of  a 
child.  "  You  are  the  elder.  There  are  only  us  two.  I  do 
not  want  to  trouble  and  tire  you  ;  but  who  else  is  there?  " 

"What  good  is  it?  What  is  the  use?"  the  other  adds 
pettishly.  "  Two  girls  like  us  !  " 

"  But  it  is  so  bad,  so  terribly  bad  "  —  begins  Zeo. 

"  That's  the  very  reason,"  her  sister  breaks  in  passionately. 
"  If  it  were  not  so  terrible  we  might  do  something.  As  it  is, 
we  can  do  no  more  than  if  we  were  two  flies.  What  is  the 
use  ?  I  won't  think  about  it  at  all.  Hateful  little  wretch  !  " 

"  Grit  is  your  brother,  Irene,"  said  the  other,  lifting  her 
steady  eyes  to  her  sister.  "  Is  it  his  fault,  that,  when  mother 
died,  he  was  given  over  to  the  negroes  ?  Nothing  could  be 
more  horrible ;  but  it  is  only  on  the  outside.  It  is  as  if  he 
had  fallen  into  the  mire.  But  I  know  he  can  be  made  clean 
again.  That  is  what  the  Bible  is  written  to  tell  us  about, 
you  know." 

"  Such  oaths  !  "  said  the  other ;  "  and,"  with  a  shudder, 
"  he  is  like  a  young  fiend  when  he  flies  into  a  passion.  But 
I  wouldn't  mind  it  if  he  were  not  worse  than  that.  I  am 
astonished,  Zeo,"  with  a  look  of  disgust,  "that  a  modest 
girl  like  you  will  allow  him  to  touch  you.  Loathsome  little 
nuisance  ! " 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  137 

"  He  is  my  brother,"  the  other  replied  softly,  "  and  your 
brother,  Irene,  —  our  only  brother.  Mother  is  dead,  and  I 
intend  to  do  all  I  can." 

"  The  idea,"  the  other  added  indignantly,  "  of  your  try- 
ing to  teach  him  music  !  To  think  how  I  kissed  him,  and 
had  him  in  my  lap,  when  I  first  came  home  !  Faugh  !  If  I 
had  known  !  And  you  know  all  as  well  as  I  do,  yet  you  let 
him  sit  with  his  cheek  against  yours  while  you  try  to  teach 
him  how  to  draw.  The  idea,  too,  of  his  learning  French  ! 
You  ride  with  him  !  I  saw  how  you  held  his  hand  when  you 
walked  down  the  steps  yesterday,  after  all  that  Aunt  Plenty 
told  you  too.  Cah  !  "  with  an  expression  of  deepest  aver- 
sion. "I  tell  you,  Zeo,"  her  sister  continued,  turning  to 
the  mirror,  and  beginning  to  take  down  and  brush  out  her 
hair,  "  I  can  hardly  endure  to  touch  you  after  you  have  been 
with  him  ! " 

"  It  was  not  about  Theodore  I  was  thinking,"  began  her 
younger  sister. 

"Zeo,"  broke  in  the  other,  whirling  herself  around,  "you 
must  not  talk  to  me  about  that!  I  cannot  endure  it.  I 
will  not  allow  it.  Grit  is  more  than  enough.  So  far  as  the 
money  goes,  I  will  do  all  I  can.  I  am  economizing.  There 
are  a  hundred  things  that  I  need,  need  badly,  and  I  am 
doing  without  until  I  am  positively  shabby.  What  did  papa 
go  into  sugar-planting  for,  if  it  only  breaks  him?  What 
does  he  stay  in  sugar  for,  if  it  is  only  worse  year  after  year? 
And  we  are  so  young,  — just  beginning  to  enjoy  life  !  It  is 
too,  too  bad  ! "  and  her  violence  changed  to  passionate 
weeping. 

"We  are  doing  the  best  we  can,  Reny,"  said  the  other, 
after  some  silence,  as  quietly  as  before.  "  You  are  helping 
me,  dear.  You  cannot  tell  how  much  we  have  saved  since 
we  came  home  and  found  out.  Every  day,  though,  I  find 
things  are  worse  than  I  had  supposed.  Why,  Reny,  only 
yesterday  I  went  to  papa,  sat  down  by  hiro^vith  my  sewing, 


138  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

told  him  I  could  bear  any  thing  :  all  I  wanted  was  to  know. 
He  told  me,  at  last,  that  if  all  were  sold,  —  this  place,  the 
sugar-plantation,  and  every  one  of  the  people  too,  —  it 
would  not  pay  what  he  owes." 

"  Yes ;  and  one  good  crop  of  sugar  would  more  than  make 
it  all  right ;  and  you  know  it,  Zeo.  What  a  poor  faith  you 
have  in  God  !  "  was  the  reply. 

"I  was  not  thinking  about  that,  Irene,"  her  sister  said, 
"  not  at  all.  We  are  doing  all  we  can.  I  haven't  told  you 
about  Mr.  Parsons,"  she  added,  her  face  lighting  up.  "He 
almost  ran  over  me,  he  was  walking  so  fast,  one  day  last 
week.  Grit  and  I  were  taking  a  stroll  along  the  beach.  He 
was  on  his  way  to  Hacamac,  his  wonderful  city  that  is  to 
be,  at  the  other  end  of  the  island.  As  soon  as  he  saw  who 
it  was,  he  .turned  and  came  back.  What  an  odd,  kind-heart- 
ed old  man  he  is  !  He  stood  there  with  his  hat  in  his  hand, 
the  sea-breeze  blowing  his  hair  all  about,  and  said  he 
wanted  to  tell  me  that  my  father  was  the  most  awfully 
swindled  man,  swindled  by  the  overseer  up  at  the  plantation, 
the  most  abominably  cheated  man,  even  for  a  sugar-planter. 
'  And  one  other  thing,'  he  said,  '  I  want  you  to  tell  your 
father.'  "  But  here  Zeo  smiled. 

"Why,  what  was  that?"  her  sister  demanded. 

"'Do  you  know  Farce  Fanthorp?'"  the  other  continued. 
"  I  said, '  Yes,  sir.'  — '  And  what  a  perfect  fool  he  is  ? '  I  said 
nothing  to  that,  and  he  went  on :  '  You  tell  the  general  from 
me,  that,  fool  as  Farce  Fanthorp  is,  he  is  the  very  man  for 
him.'  I  laughed,  and  asked  him  what  he  meant.  'If  I 
were  your  father,'  he  said,  '  I  would  have  Fanthorp  go  up 
suddenly,  —  he  is  a  splendid  lawyer,  you  know,  —  and  take 
a  snap  judgment  upon  that  rascally  overseer,  look  over  his 
books,  examine  into  his  accounts.  Farce  Fanthorp  is  a 
fool,'  he  went  on  to  say,  '  and  as  perfect  a  fool  as  I  know ; 
but,  if  he  was  to  take  that  plantation  in  hand,  he  could 
make  it  pay.  Tall  your  father  that,'  he  said.  And  I  did  tell 
him,"  Zeo  added,  her  face  all  in  a  glow. 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  139 

"What  did  papa  say?"  asked  her  sister,  seating  herself 
and  greatly  interested. 

"He  laughed,"  Zeo  replied,  "and  said  he  had  no  doubt 
Mr.  Parsons  was  right,  and  he  would  see  Mr.  Fanthorp. 
Papa  told  me  that  Mr.  Parsons  owns  the  plantation  next  to 
his,  and  has  almost  ruined  it  with  his  experiments  ;  but  when 
it  is  not  his  own  business  which  is  concerned,  Mr.  Parsons 
has  the  longest  head  of  any  man  he  knows.  But  I  did  not 
tell  papa,"  Zeo  added,  "  that  Mr.  Parsons  said  that  he  had 
known  a  good  many  sugar-planters,  and  my  father  was  the 
laziest  as  well  as  the  most  gentlemanly  of  them  all.  '  Your 
father  is  so  large  and  heavy,'  he  explained." 

"  Queer  old  creature  !  "  Irene  exclaimed ;  "and  was  that 
all  he  said?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  Zeo  added  with  a  laugh  :  "  he  shot  off,  putting 
on  his  hat  as  he  went,  only  to  take  it  off  and  come  back 
again.  'The  best  thing  you  can  do/  he  said  to  me,  the 
wind  blowing  and  the  surf  rolling  so  high  I  could  hardly 
hear  him, '  is  to  marry  your  sister  Irene  to  Farce  Fanthorp.'  " 
Zeo  paused  a  little,  maliciously. 

"What  an  old  goose  !  "  said  that  sister,  blushing. 

" '  Because,'  "  Zeo  continued,  —  "I  am  only  quoting  Mr. 
Parsons,  Irene,  — '  because,'  he  said, '  Col.  Rojand  never  has 
married  any  lady,  and  never  will.'  No,  hear  me  out,"  Zeo 
persisted;  "'and  because,'  Mr.  Parsons  went  on,  'I  do  not 
think  she  is  a  suitable  match  for  Mr.  Venable.'  "  And  at 
this  point  the  younger  sister  laughed  merrily,  re-acting  from 
her  anxiety  before.  But  even  as  she  laughed  the  young  lady 
colored  to  think  of  something  the  eager  old  man  had  said, 
and  which  she  did  not  care  at  all  to  repeat.  It  was  this  : 
"  My  dear  Miss  Buttolph,  it  is  the  talk  of  the  island,  that 
Gov.  Magruder  is  desperately  in  love  with  you.  He  is  so 
much  in  love,  that  he  dares  not  visit  you  often.  He  comes 
down  from  his  plantation  expressly  to  do  so,  and  then  turns 
and  goes  back,  afraid  to  call.  Now,  Old  Ugly  is  a  good 


I4O  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

fellow,  but  if  I  were  you" —  At  that  point,  however,  Miss 
Zeo  had  bid  him  good-by. 

"  Perhaps,"  Irene  continued  with  disdain,  coloring  as  she 
spoke,  "Mr.  Parsons  invited  you  to  ride  in  his  machine 
before  he  left  you." 

"  Yes,  he  did,"  said  the  other,  reflecting  her  sister's  color 
in  her  own  face  ;  "  in  his  terraqueous  machine,  he  called  it. 
He  says  that  Mr.  Venable  —  he  evidently  thinks  a  great  deal 
of  him,  dear  —  and  you  and  I,  Mr.  Fanthorp  and  Col. 
Roland,  because  he  is  an  editor,  are  about  all  he  intends  to 
have." 

"  Catch  me  !  "  the  other  added  contemptuously.  "  He 
condenses  pigs  and  cabbages  !  They  talk  of  Mr.  Quatty 
and  of  Mrs.  Chaffingsby :  he  -is  the  craziest  of  the  three. 
Wouldn't  it  be  fun,  Zeo,  to  see  Mr.  Fanthorp  take  him  off? 
only  it  is  too  easily  done.  And  how  that  laughing  young 
wife  of  his  ever  came  to  marry  such  a  queer  old  soul,  is  more 
than  I  can  understand.  What  a  darling  little  girl  they  have, 
too  !  They  call  her  Owny,  and  she  is  a  perfect  beauty.  But 
I  must  leave  you.  Marry  Mr.  Venable,  indeed  ! " 

"Wait  a  moment,  Reny,"  her  sister  said,  as  the  other  was 
going  out  of  the  room ;  and  her  whole  manner  changed  as 
she  said  it.  . 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  Zeo  ! "  exclaimed  Irene,  looking  with 
dismay  at  her  serious  aspect.  "  Don't,  don't !  I  cannot 
endure  it." 

"  Reny,  I  dare  not  put  any  thing  in  his  brandy,"  Zeo  said, 
rising,  and  holding  her  sister  firmly  by  the  arm.  "  A  wife 
might  do  it,  to  make  him  sick  and  disgusted  with  it ;  but 
I  ought  not.  Yet  something  must  be  done.  It  is  almost 
every  night  now.  All  the  negroes  know  it.  O  Reny  !  it  is 
terrible  to  see  him  lying  there  as  if  he  were  dead.  And  he 
will  die  in  one  of — those  —  those —  He  is  so  heavy,  you 
know  !  If  I  only  knew,"  the  poor  girl  added,  her  hand  upon 
her  head,  "  what  to  do  !  I  cannot  find  one  verse  in  Scrip- 


*A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  14! 

ture  as  to  what  a  child  ought  to  do  when  a  father  does 
that." 

"  Let  me  go,  Zeo ;  don't  ask  me,"  her  sister  said,  as  vio- 
lent as  before.  "  It  makes  me  desperate.  There  is  nothing 
we  can  do.  We  are  only  girls  /  Oh  !  what  did  mamma  die 
for?  "  and  she  gave  way  once  more  to  weeping.  She  had  a 
full  measure  of  energy,  bodily  and  intellectual,  but  in  emer- 
gencies it  was  sure,  like  other  tempests,  to  spend  itself  in 
rain ;  abundance  of  force,  but  it  exhausted  itself  in  tears, 
and  so  dissipated  itself  into  the  dampened  air.  Not  that 
her  sister  did  not  have  her  showers  also  ;  but  she  was  unlike 
Irene  in  this,  that,  the  more  she  was  aroused  and  driven 
toward  her  highest  climax  by  circumstances,  that  much  the 
less  was  she  disposed  to  weeping.  We  know  that  Christ  wept 
at  Gethsemane ;  but  there  *is  no  record  of  a  tear  when  he 
had  reached  Calvary.  The  women  wept  there ;  but  would 
they  have  wept  if  they  could  have  done  any  thing  else  ?  So 
with  Zeo.  She  had  her  December  rains  as  well  as  her  April 
tears ;  but  her  soul  allowed  to  her  eyes  merely  its  overflow. 
Unlike  Irene,  it  was  the  surplus  of  her  strength  that  went  in 
that  way,  leaving  the  substance  of  it  cleared  for  use.  By  the 
laws  of  her  stronger  nature,  the  more  deeply  she  felt,  the 
more  was  she  impelled  to  act,  not  cry.  Therefore  her  eyes 
were  dry  as  she  held  Irene  firmly,  and  said,  — 

"  Sister,  it  is  not  only  about  this  I  wanted  to  speak  :  some- 
thing must  and  shall  be  done  about  "  — 

Irene  lifted  her  face,  pale  with  the  parching  of  sudden 
wrath,  and  said  venomously,  "  Zeo,  if  that  vile  animal  comes 
in  my  reach  I  will  kill  her  !  "  and  then  gave  way,  with  sobs 
and  ejaculations,  to  tears,  —  tears,  and  nothing  but  copious 
tears,  and  so  melted  into  utter  weakness  and  worthlessness 
for  all  practical  uses.  To  Zeo,  it  was  like  trying  to  lean 
upon  water. 

It  was  on  this  account,  that,  at  midnight  of  the  same  Sun- 
day, the  poor  girl  had  no  wish  for  the  presence  of  her  sister, 


142  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

as,  fearing  he  might  die,  or  she  knew  not  what,  she  sat 
beside  her  father  lying  upon  the  sofa  in  the  dining-room, 
drunk,  and  dead  drunk  ! 

Mr.  Venable  had  preached  a  fine  sermon  that  night,  in 
the  hearing  of  the  general  and  Irene,  upon  "the  sweet 
influences  of  the  Pleiades ; "  proving  quite  conclusively,  that 
the  influences  referred  to  were  the  attraction  which  swung 
the  entire  universe  around  a  certain  star  in  that  constella- 
tion ;  and  the  discourse  was  garnished  with  all  that  poetry 
afforded,  as  well  as  "science.  Miss  Irene  had  expressed 
herself  rapturously  about  it,  as  they  walked  home  together. 

"  It  was  excellent,  admirable,  very  good  indeed  ;  did  you 
great  credit,  sir,"  the  general  remarked,  when  he  bade 
Mr.  Venable  good-night.  "  The  constellation  Pleiades,  you 
said,"  passing  the  key  of  his  sideboard  from  hand  to  hand, 
"  and  Alcyone  is  the  star  in  it  around  which  we  revolve : 
I  must  remember  it.  Excellent,  very  sublime  !  Good-night, 
good-night ;  "  and  in  a  short  time  thereafter  his  delighted 
auditor  had  forgotten  every  thing  in  the  depths  of  his  drunk- 
en stupor. 

Usually  there  was  not  a  more  magnificent  man  to  be 
seen  in  St.  Jerome  :  now  he  was  only  an  enormous  sot,  his 
large  face  purple,  his  clothing  all  awry,  snoring  discordantly, 
an  object  of  disgust  amounting  to  terror.  The  servants 
were  asleep,  only  Grit  and  Zeo  in  the  room.  The  two  had 
not  gone  to  the  night  service.  Zeo  had  read  to  her  brother 
from  a  Sunday-school  book.  So  far  as  nine-tenths  of  the 
Sunday-school  library  was  concerned,  the  best  celebration 
for  an  anniversary  would  have  been  a  bonfire  of  the  books, 
with  the  children  rejoicing  around.  But  Zeo  had  slipped  in 
a  good  deal  here  and  there,  as  she  read,  trying  to  interest 
and  keep  Grit  awake.  He  was  at  the  critical  moment  when 
a  cherub  child  becomes  a  lubberly  boy ;  and  with  a  woman's 
keenest  instincts,  and  subtlest  devices  of  love,  she  was  trying 
to  lay  her  grasp  upon  the  very  soul  of  her  brother.  He 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  143 

was  all  she  had  left.  And  he  was  very  wide  awake  now, 
standing  beside  Zeo,  whose  arm  was  around  him  as  she  sat 
beside  her  dead  father.  Dead,  because  Gen.  Buttolph 
never  drank  except  at  home,  at  night,  with  the  richest  and 
best  of  liquors  in  unlimited  quantity  at  hand ;  drank  with 
enormous  thirst;  drank,  with  the  immense  inertia  of  his 
heavy  build,  like  a  mountain  sliding  into  a  bottomless  sea, 
purely  and  exclusively  for  the  drink's  sake.  Yes  :  no  gentle- 
man in  the  city  was  more  sumptuously  clad,  more  regularly 
in  the  hands  of  his  barber,  more  genial,  hospitable,  liberal ; 
and  there  he  lay,  a  huge  swine.  There  he  lay,  every  ounce 
of  his  immense  weight  upon  the  heart  of  that  one  poor  girl. 
And  she  has,  unaided,  to  lift  him  in  her  frail  arms  back,  if 
it  be  done  at  all,  to  all  that  he  used  to  be.  He  has  to  be 
held  from  his  downward  descent,  and  lifted,  when,  by  reason 
of  that  in  him  which  was  worse  than  drunkenness,  she  dared 
not  think  of  her  dead  mother  because  of  the  new  horror  it 
awoke  in  her  of  the  one  she  had  to  save. 

While  Zeo  and  her  brother  kept  watch  over  their  father, 
Mr.  Venable,  too,  was  awake  up  stairs. 

"The  church  was  crowded  to-night,"  he  soliloquized. 
"  I  am  doing  a  grand  work  !  Col.  Roland  asked  for  a  copy 
of  my  sermon  for  his  paper ;  and,  when  Miss  Aurelia  Jones 
came  up  to  thank  me,  she  burst  into  tears  as  she  took  hold 
of  my  hand,  and  could  say  nothing  at  last.  But  it  was  all 
as  nothing  to  me,  because  she  was  not  there.  I  did  not 
understand  what  old  Plenty  said  that  morning  about  her, 
and  I  cannot  comprehend  why  she  did  not  go  to  church  to- 
night. Can  it  be  possible,"  he  asked  himself  after  a  while, 
"  that  Gov.  Magruder  was  in  the  city,  and  spent  the  evening 
with  her?  I  never  thought  that  she  would  entertain  com- 
pany upon  Sunday.  Perhaps,"  —  and  the  dreadful  sugges- 
tion smote  him  as  worst  of  all,  —  "  perhaps  she  is  sceptical ! " 
And  it  was  little  he  slept  that  night. 


144  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MR.   VENABLE   BECOMES    BETTER  ACQUAINTED  WITH    MRS.   CHAF- 
FTNGSBY  AND   HER  HOUSEHOLD. 

EARLY  the  next  morning  after  his  wonderful  sermon, 
Mr.  Venable  set  out  with  Commodore  Grandheur,  Mr. 
Nogens,  and  other  gentlemen  connected  with  the  First 
Church,  to  attend  a  conference  of  his  denomination,  at 
which  would  be  decided  the  question  of  his  acceptance  of 
the  pastorate  of  the  church.  It  was  a  fatiguing  journey ; 
for  the  conference  met  at  some  distance  away,  at  an  inland 
town,  and  a  good  part  of  the  travel  was  upon  horseback,  to 
which  he  was  only  of  late  becoming  used ;  and  it  was  several 
days  after  he  came  back  before  he  felt  disposed  to  much 
exercise. 

"I  landed  on  this  island  on  the  first  day  of  January, 
and  this  is  nearly  the  middle  of  March,"  he  said  one  after- 
noon to  himself,  as  he  took,  at  last,  a  slow  walk  through  the 
suburbs  of  St.  Jerome.  "It  seems  three  years  instead.  I 
suppose  it  is  because  of  my  secluded  life  before ;  but  it  is 
as  if  I  were  living  upon  a  fragment  which  had  been  smitten 
off  from  the  earth,  and  was  revolving  more  rapidly  than  the 
old  world.  I  am  so  inexperienced,  so  ardent  and  impul- 
sive, —  the  wonderful  appetite  and  health  I  enjoy,  —  every 
thing  is  against  me.  The  days  were  emptier  when  I  was 
with  men  only.  I  wish  I  could  strike  Miss  Irene  and  her 
lively  talk,  as  well  as  this  beautiful  vision  at  Mrs.  Chaf- 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  145 

fingsby's,  out  of  my  life.  I  could  give  myself  then  more 
completely  to  my  work.  But  I  cannot  wish  to  strike  her  out. 
How  absurd  and  hopeless  the  idea  of  my  competing  with 
Gov.  Magruder  !  —  a  David  with  such  a  Goliath  ! "  And  he 
was  surprised,  as  he  walked,  to  find  himself  at  last  in  front 
of  Mrs.  Chaffingsby's  house.  At  the  same  moment  Mrs. 
Chaffingsby  came  out  of  the  gate,  dressed  for  walking. 

"  Mr.  Venable  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Is  it  possible  !  I  was 
hastening  to  call  upon  you.  There  is  a  divinity  in  art,  or 
we  should  not  have  thus  met.  It  decides  me,  decides  me  ! 
Wait  a  moment,  sir :  I  wish  to  recover  myself." 

She  was  dressed  in  silk,  with  a  good  deal  of  lace  and 
jewelry  about  her  neck.  Under  her  bonnet,  which  was 
adorned  with  artificial  flowers,  was  a  halo  of  small  curls  of 
light  hair,  in  which  her  face  was  set  like  that  of  a  doll,  rather 
than  even  a  child.  Her  eyes  were  large  in  proportion,  blue 
and  singularly  bright.  She  was  in  the  act  of  opening  her 
parasol,  when  she  came  out ;  but  folded  it  now,  and  con- 
tinued, after  the  other  had  replied-  to  her  salutation,  and 
made  all  due  inquiries  in  regard  to  the  health  of  her  family,  — 

"  You  remember,  sir,  that,  as  you  left  upon  your  last  visit, 
I  was  smitten  by  a  sudden  inspiration.  I  have  had  many ; 
but  this  was  the  first  of  the  kind.  You  will  be  astonished, 
sir  !  I  venture  to  hope  you  will  be  more  astonished  than  you 
ever  were  in  your  life.  My  husband  is  violently  opposed  to 
it ;  but  I  have  given  it,  I  may  say,  an  agony  of  consideration. 
In  fact,  I  may  add,  I  have  not  eaten  with  appetite  since,  or 
slept.  I  was  hesitating  even  as  I  was  going  out  of  the  gate ; 
but  your  presence  confirms  me." 

"  I  thank  you,  madam,"  the  other  replied. 

"  You  cannot  thank  me  until  you  know,"  she  interrupted 
him.  "  Mr.  Parsons  is  an  absurd  inventor  of  impracticable 
machines  ;  and  he,"  she  added,  "  speaks  contemptuously  of 
my  art,  to  my  husband,  who  is  associated  with  him  at  times. 
He  objects  to  what  I  now  propose,  possibly  on  the  same 


146  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

grounds  with  my  husband,  that  I  have  confined  myself 
hitherto  to  prophets,  apostles,  martyrs,  angels,  and  the  like. 
But  I  am  determined,  and  since  you  came,  to  descend. 
'  Captain,'  I  said  to  my  husband,  '  I  will  delineate  you  as 
Jonah  being  hurled  overboard.'  — '  Paint  away,'  he  said. 
'  But  no,'  I  continued  :  '  I  will  paint  a  gorgeous  banqueting- 
hall,  and  Gen.  Buttolph  shall  sit  to  me  as  Belshazzar.' 
My  husband  became  alarmed  at  that.  But  the  inspiration 
which  smote  me  at  the  close  of  your  visit  was  that  at  which 
I  was  aiming ;  and  all  this  was  but  preliminary.  When  at 
last  I  mentioned  this  my  original  idea  to  my  husband,  he 
was  arranging  a  compass ;  and  he  dropped  and  broke  it, 
swearing,  I  regret  to  say,  at  the  same  time.  My  husband 
glories  in  my  art,  sir,"  she  said  with  pride ;  "  so  much  so, 
that,  although  he  had  suggested  that  I  should  recreate  myself 
upon  lesser  subjects,  he  himself  shrank  when  I  proposed  it." 

"  Proposed  it?  "  the  other  repeated  with  a  sinking  heart. 

"  Say  that  this  is  the  wilderness,"  the  artist  said,  making  a 
circle  upon  the  boards  of  the  gate  at  which  they  stood,  with 
the  end  of  her  parasol.  "  There  a  Sadducee,  and  it  shall 
be  Mr.  Parsons ;  here  a  Pharisee ;  on  this  spot,  the  coarse 
countenance  of  an  Herodian,  and  for  that  I  have  thought 
of  Mr.  Quatty ;  here"  and  she  struck  the  centre  of  the  gate 
with  decision,  "John  the  Baptist  shall  stand  with  the  skin 
and  leathern  girdle ;  and,"  she  added,  turning  upon  the 
other  with  enthusiasm,  "you  shall  be  John  the  Baptist." 

"  Pardon  me :  you  must  excuse  me,"  Mr.  Venable  ex- 
claimed with  energy. 

"You  object  to  assuming  so  sacred  a  character?  I 
had  thought  of  that,"  she  said  with  utter  unconsciousness. 
"  Very  well.  Better  still :  I  like  few  women,  but  I  do  sin- 
cerely love  Miss  Zenobia.  Abbreviations  I  abhor,  and  there- 
fore will  not  mention  her  as  Miss  Zeo.  The  theme  shall  be 
the  meeting  of  Jacob  and  Rachel  at  the  well.  She  will  make, 
with  a  jar  on  her  head,  an  admirable  Rachel ;  and  you  shall 


A  YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  147 

be  Jacob, — Jacob  regarding  her  with  the  dawn  upon  your 
brow  of  a  passionate  love.  Not  one  word,"  she  continued 
breathlessly,  "but  please  come  in  while  the  inspiration  is 
upon  me.  If  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will  hasten  to  my  room, 
and  get  on  my  working  apparel :  I  am  not  myself  without  it." 

Mr.  Venable  had  never  been  more  perplexed,  but  re- 
solved to  escape  in  some  way.  He  followed  her  to  the 
door  of  the  house,  and  lingered  there  while  Mrs.  Chaffingsby 
hurried  in  and  up-stairs. 

As  he  waited,  puzzling  his  brains  as  to  what  to  do,  her 
daughter  came  along  the  hall  within,  and  stood  in  the  door. 
He  had  doubts,  afterward,  whether  she  could  be  as  lovely  as 
she  had  seemed  the  day  he  had  come  suddenly  upon  her 
beneath  the  Syrian  Martha  portrayed  so  savagely  upon  the 
kitchen  walls.  The  face  which  smiled  upon  him  as  the  door 
opened  shamed  him  for  having  doubted.  He  looked  stead- 
ily at  the  girl,  so  fair  and  fresh  in  the  purity  of  her  guileless 
bearing,  in  order  that  he  might  never  waver  again  as  to  the 
possibility  of  such  beauty  off  of  canvas  and  out  of  mar- 
ble. The  only  idea  he  had  of  her  dress  was  that  it  was 
largely  apron ;  and  of  her  hair,  that  it  was  not  dressed  for 
church,  the  girl  having  evidently  come  from  domestic  duties. 

"  Good-day,  sir,"  she  said,  at  once  and  without  explana- 
tion :  "  he  is  asleep ; "  and,  although  fully  sixteen  years  old, 
it  was  somehow  merely  a  child  of  six  who  smiled  upon 
him. 

"He?  Who  is  he?"  the  visitor  asked,  surprised  at  her 
words,  and  entering,  although  his  invitation  to  do  so  lay 
altogether  in  the  manner  of  the  other,  whose  wonderful  blue 
eyes  were  fastened  upon  his  with  the  full  and  steady  look 
rather  of  a  babe  than  of  a  child. 

"  Charlie,"  she  replied.  "  He  is  a  great  deal  of  trouble ; 
but  he  is  asleep  in  his  chair.  She  is  painting  up-stairs.  She 
is  almost  always  painting.  Do  you  like  pictures?"  she 
added,  as  Mr.  Venable  seated  himself  under  the  flying  Judas 


148  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

in  the  parlor.  "There  are  hundreds  of  people  in  this 
house  ;  up  in  the  attic  too.  She  has  put  David  on  the  wall 
of  the  observatory,  where  the  flagstaff  is.  He  is  praying  on 
top  of  his  house,  you  know.  Ananias  and  Sapphira  are 
falling  dead  in  our  cook's  room.  You  know  the  negroes 
tell  such  awful  lies ;  but  Aunt  Lucy,  our  black  woman,  says 
she  don't  care.  She  is  our  cook,  and  sleeps  there.  She  says 
when  the  owls  cry  all  night,  they  say, '  Tu-who,  tu-whit,  tu-who- 
cooks-for-you-all ! '  The  little  maid  telling  Naaman  to  go  to 
Elisha  is  on  my  wall.  Every  room  is  full  of  them.  When- 
ever I  open  a  door,  they  all  stop  throwing  their  arms  about, 
and  talking,  until  I  go  out.  They  stand  stock-still,  looking 
at  me  with  their  eyes."  The  young  girl  had  not  seated  her- 
self, but  stood  smiling  and  looking  at  her  visitor  steadily. 
Whatever  loveliness  there  is  of  color  and  curve  and  tone  of 
voice,  possible  to  one  of  her  sex,  were  certainly  hers. 

"  Why,  Miss  Clara,  you  are  as  original  as  your  mother," 
began  Mr.  Venable,  wondering  at  her  artlessness.  At  this 
instant,  however,  there  was  a  rapid  step  along  the  hall,  and 
Mrs.  Chaffingsby  came  into  the  room  in  a  brown  and  paint- 
bespattered  dress,  a  palette  in  one  hand,  a  brush  in  the 
other.  There  was  an  expression  of  terror  in  her  face,  as 
she  saw  Mr.  Venable,  that  alarmed  him. 

She  glanced  from  her  visitor  to  her  daughter,  her  hand 
upon  her  heart,  evidently  much  agitated,  and  then  motioned 
to  the  door,  saying,  "  Charlie,  Charlie  !  "  as  if  it  were  all  she 
could  say. 

"  Please  excuse  me,  madam,"  her  visitor  said,  as  the  girl 
left  the  room.  "You  had  said  something  about  some 
intention.  I  will  call  again  at  another  time.  Allow  me  to 
say,"  he  added,  as  he  opened  the  door,  "  that  I  have  rarely 
seen  a  young  lady  so  capable  of — of —  Pardon  me,"  he 
continued,  "  but  I  would  think  that,  with  a  thorough  educa- 
tion and  travel  and  society,  your  daughter  will  make  one  of 
the  most  char  —  I  mean  remarkable" —  He  felt,  as  he 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  149 

spoke,  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  some  indiscretion.  Mrs. 
Chaffingsby  looked  at  him  first  in  astonishment,  then  in 
wrath ;  then  the  poor  little  woman  lifted  her  palette  and  brush 
before  her  face,  and  sank  upon  the  sofa  in  a  flood  of  tears. 
The  next  moment  the  young  man  found  himself,  after  a  hur- 
ried apology,  walking  rapidly  away  from  the  house,  dazed, 
blaming  himself  severely,  yet  amazed  as  to  the  meaning  of 
it  all. 

"  That  is  what  they  told  us  there,"  he  said  to  himself,  of 
his  seminary :  "  other  men  may  escape,  at  least  for  a  time ; 
but  the  instant  a  minister  sins,  that  instant  he  is  smitten  as 
by  lightning,  —  by  lightning  accompanied  by  thunder  enough 
to  fasten  the  attention  of  the  whole  world. 

"But  what  have  I  done?  Can  my  honest  affection  for 
Miss  Zeo  be  a  sin  for  which  I  am  to  be  punished?  And 
why  is  she  so  silent?  "  and  he  worried  himself  as  to  that  and 
Mrs.  Chaffingsby,  until  he  was  wearied  out,  walking  along 
the  beach,  in  deep  thought,  for  miles. 

"  What  could  have  possessed  Mrs.  Chaf  "  — ?  He  sat  down 
at  last,  as  he  said  it  aloud,  and  watched  the  fiddler-crabs 
scurrying  away.  Then  he  got  up  from  the  hillock  of  sand, 
and  stooped  over  one  of  the  jelly-fishes  washed  ashore,  and 
turned  the  transparent  mass  over  and  over,  wondering  how  a 
living  creature  could  exist  with  nothing  resembling  an  organ 
of  any  sort.  But  it  was  only  after  he  had  tired  himself 
down,  and  rested  as  upon  the  final  basis  of  being  the  great- 
est blunderer  living,  that  he  turned  his  feet,  in  the  growing 
darkness,  toward  home.  The  only  hope  left  him  was  a 
steady  purpose  not  to  stay  a  fool,  if  God  could  show  him 
how. 

That  very  afternoon,  he  was  being  thoroughly  discussed 
by  others  as  well.  The  commodore  had  called  at  Gen.  But- 
tolph's,  and  had  met  Miss  Aurelia  Jones  there,  who  had 
been  unusually  fervent  in  her  expressions  of  regard  for  their 
pastor.  "  Since  he  is  not  at  home,  I  will  leave  a  message 


I5O  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

for  him  with  you,"  she  said  to  Zeo,  after  some  conversation. 
"  There  is  a  purse,"  she  added,  showing  it  to  her,  "  which 
I  worked  with  my  own  hands.  It  contains  a  little  money. 
Tell  Mr.  Venable  to  apply  it  to  any  good  cause  he  may 
know  of. 

"  I  like  him,"  she  added,  "  not  as  the  people  generally  do. 
His  sermons  are  very  beautiful.  He  is  faithful  and  devoted 
in  his  visiting  among  the  poor  and  the  sick.  Nor  is  it  be- 
cause of  his  earnest  supplications.  It  is  the  unworldliness, 
the  glowing  self-devotion,  I  appreciate  !  "  and  the  lady  clasped 
her  gloved  hands  together  as  she  sat,  her  black  eyes  suffused 
with  tears,  her  face  overflowing  with  feeling.  "  I  know  you 
people  cannot  appreciate  such  things,"  she  added  at  last. 
"  I  fear  you  are  altogether  given  up  to  the  world.  You  will 
soon  sicken  of  it,  as  I  have  done.  Zeo  is  more  thoughtful, 
even  if  she  is  so  silent "  — 

"Is  it  possible,  Miss  Aurelia,  that  you  do  not  know?" 
Irene  interrupted  her  guest. 

"  I  know  that  Commodore  Grandheur  would  prefer  an 
older  and  colder  man,"  the  lady  continued,  not  regarding 
Irene,  who  had  risen,  and  was  standing  before  her.  "  You 
are  of  a  more  formal  temperament,  sir ;  you  like  more  argu- 
ment, more  instruction,  more  deliberate  and  unimpassioned 
reasoning.  But  you  are  no  fair  specimen  of  the  mass  of 
our  people,"  added  Miss  Jones,  who  did  not  fear  the  com- 
modore at  all,  and  who,  in  virtue  of  her  wealth  and  position, 
never  restrained  her  ardors  for  any  one.  "A  church  is  not 
a  man-of-war,  commodore,  as  I  have  often  told  you.  We 
are  neither  the  passengers  nor  the  crew  of  any  thing  of  the 
kind." 

"  Miss  Aurelia ! "  persisted  Irene,  stooping,  as  she  stood 
before  her,  to  touch  that  lady  on  the  knee,  "Miss  Aure- 
lia"— 

"I  have  had  but  one  opinion,"  said  the  gentleman  ap- 
pealed to,  his  two  hands  upon  the  top  of  his  cane,  which 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  151 

was  between  his  knees  as  he  sat.  "  Ours  is  the  first  church 
of  St.  Jerome.  Dr.  Burrows,  whatever  his  weakness,  was  a 
man  of  great  ability.  We  are  not  children.  Neither  are  we 
all  ladies.  Emotion  is  unreliable,  evanescent,  without  solid- 
ity. What  we  need,"  and  the  commodore's  voice  and  man- 
ner were  adjusted  to  his  words,  "  is  a  man  who  is  deep, . 
powerful,  experienced,  regular,  symmetrical.  Would  you  be- 
lieve, madam,  that  Mr.  Venable  almost  defends  Mr.  Quatty 
in  his  insane  course?  " 

"  I  myself  told  Mr.  Venable  all  about  Mr.  Quatty,"  the 
lady  said  earnestly  :  "  what  a  rough  excellence  he  possesses ; 
how  he  never  allows  a  horse  or  buggy  to  go  out  of  his  stable 
upon  Sunday,  except  when  a  steamship  arrives,  although 
that  is  the  chief  day  for  beach-driving.  He  will  not  let  you 
have  any  thing,  even  for  a  funeral,  on  Sunday,  unless  you 
solemnly  promise  to  return  direct  from  the  funeral,  and  not 
make  a  drive  of  it  afterward.  There  is  a  sign,"  added  Miss 
Jones,  laughing,  "  in  his  stable,  with  letters  six  inches  long. 
I  did  not  believe  it,  and  went  there  and  hired  a  saddle-horse 
in  order  to  see  it  myself.  There  it  is. 


No  Swearing,   Gambling,  Bad   Talk,   nor 

Sabbath-Breaking,  in  this  Concern. 

No  sir-ree  Bob! 


"  Mr.  Venable's  plan,"  she  added  eagerly,  "  is  to  engage 
a  public  hall  for  Mr.  Quatty,  to  give  notice  of  it  on  Sunday, 
and  let  the  man  have  a  full  opportunity  to  say  what  he  has 
to  say,  once  for  all.  I  am  like  our  pastor,"  she  added.  "  I 
hate  formalism,  however  respectable ;  and  I  do  love  to  see 
earnest,  energetic  piety,  however  homely  it  may  be.  I  had 
rather  laugh  at  the  one  than  weep  over  the  other,  myself," 
she  concluded. 


152  A  YEAR  WORTH   LIVING. 

It  was  an  old,  old  quarrel  between  Miss  Aurelia  and  the 
commodore,  dating  from  the  days  of  Dr.  Burrows,  long 
before  Mr.  Venable.  The  two  could  not  agree.  And  they 
could  no  more  meet  without  contest  than  could  ice  and  fire. 
As  usual,  the  gentleman  was  indignant.  He  stiffened  himself 
as  he  sat,  took  fresh  hold  upon  his  cane,  cleared  his  throat 
to  reply,  but  was  interrupted. 

" And  now  please  listen  to  me"  Irene  said,  still  standing 
before  her.  "  Do  you  know,  Miss  Aurelia,  that  Mr.  Venable 
has  fallen  hopelessly  in  love?  " 

There  was  something  unlike  the  usual  audacity  of  the 
young  lady,  a  laugh  in  her  voice,  but  not  in  her  eyes,  as  she 
spoke. 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean,  you  foolish  child?"  asked  the 
lady  addressed,  her  face  turning  pale,  her  lips  remaining 
apart,  and  as  if  suddenly  dry,  after  she  had  spoken. 

"  I  am  not  a  child,  nor  foolish,"  the  young  woman  replied, 
with  some  haughtiness,  as  she  drew  herself  up.  "  Let  me 
alone,  Zeo,"  to  her  sister,  who  had  placed  herself  beside  her, 
a  hand  upon  her  arm.  "  I  happen  to  know  that  Mr.  Vena- 
ble has  a  passionate  admiration  for  —  now,  for  whom  do  you 
suppose?"  she  added  with  bitter  sarcasm.  "For  Clara 
Chaffin,  or  Chaffingsby,  as  her  mother  calls  herself ! "  and 
the  disgust  upon  the  face  of  the  one  speaking  was  reflected, 
as  soon  as  the  astonishment  had  passed  from  their  eyes,  in 
the  countenances  of  all  present. 

Except  Zeo.  "  It  is  because  he  does  not  know.  She  is 
very  beautiful,  as  we  all  know ;  the  loveliest  creature,  poor, 
poor  thing,  I  ever  saw,"  she  said.  "  He  is  ardent  and 
impulsive,  Miss  Jones,  very  warm-hearted,  and  full  of  imagi- 
nation." And  Zeo  was  astonished  at  the  eagerness  of  her 
own  tones,  as  she  thus  defended  the  absent. 

"  I  did  not  think  any  human  being  "  —  began  the  commo- 
dore, oblivious  to  the  sudden  and  unusual  earnestness  with 
which  Zeo  spoke,  flushing  as  she  did  so,  lifting  his  cane,  and 


A  YEAR  WORTH   LIVING.  153 

letting  it  come  down  again  with  emphasis,  in  the  silence 
which  ensued.  But  his  eye  was  arrested  in  the  act,  by  the 
change  in  the  face  of  Miss  Aurelia,  and  he  paused.  She 
was,  as  we  have  said,  an  eager  lady.  Her  face  was  a  good 
face,  full  of  kindliness ;  the  black  eyes  quick  to  sympathize 
beneath  their  clusters  of  curls,  her  manner  as  effusive  as  it 
was  ardent.  The  florid  color  was  gone  from  her  face ;  it 
was  drawn  and  hard ;  her  eyes  had,  on  the  instant,  become 
as  cold  as  those  of  a  statue.  At  least  Zeo  was  aware,  too, 
that  her  jewelled  hands,  lying  the  moment  before  open  in 
her  lap,  had  suddenly  clinched  themselves.  Zeo  winced  in 
sympathy  with  a  cruel  pain,  which,  she  knew  not  why,  had 
as  suddenly  wrung  the  heart  of  their  visitor.  All  who  knew 
Miss  Aurelia,  knew  that  her  fervor  was  the  desperate  effort 
of  her  soul  against  experiences  in  her  past  life  ;  experiences 
the  bitterest  a  woman  can  know.  All  knew,  in  a  vague  way, 
that  this  was  so ;  but  none  except  the  One  to  whom  she  had 
fled  for  help  knew  how  much  more  deadly  than  death  those 
agonies  had  been.  The  poor  lady  was  almost  as  much 
amazed  as  Zeo  was,  at  the  anguish,  as  from  a  rude  hand 
upon  old  scars,  which  Irene  had  inflicted.  But  she  said 
nothing.  It  was  certain  that,  from  that  moment,  the  feelings 
of  the  lady  were  reversed  toward  Mr.  Venable,  and  as  by 
the  shock  of  an  astonishment  of  which  the  suddenness 
equalled  the  bitterness.  Yet  it  was  only  those  of  her  own 
sex  present  who  understood,  absurd  as  it  seemed  in  the  case 
of  a  lady  so  much  older  than  Mr.  Venable,  the  secret  of  it 
all.  And  of  the  two  sisters,  Zeo  alone  knew  that  Miss  Aurelia 
had  been  as  unconscious  of  her  interest  in  him  —  at  least 
almost  as  unconscious  —  as  any  other. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  so  much,  at  last,"  Commodore  Grand- 
heur  added  after  some  silence ;  a  revolution  taking  place  in 
him  also,  by  reason  of  what  he  saw  in  the  face  of  his  invaria- 
ble opponent.  "  Our  pastor  is  young  and  ardent.  Let  me 
tell  you,  ladies,  —  I  did  not  intend  to  mention  it,"  he  slowly 


154  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

continued,  —  "  on  our  way  up  country  to  the  conference,  at 
which  the  call  to  our  church  was  placed  in  Mr.  Venable's 
hands,  —  we  came,  Mr.  Venable,  three  other  gentlemen,  and 
myself,  to  a  part  of  the  road  which  was  overflowed  from  the 
late  heavy  rains.  We  were  all  on  horseback.  The  bridges 
were  washed  away.  There  happened  to  be  an  old  canoe  on 
the  roadside,  but  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  to  do  but  turn 
back  and  give  up  going.  In  this  emergency  Mr.  Venable 
took  off  his  outer  clothing,  and  swam  his  own  horse  over,  all 
our  horses  following  in  a  string  behind,  we  ourselves  coming 
after  in  the  canoe  with  our  saddles.  He  had  to  swim  along 
the  windings  of  the  road  a  long  distance,  and  against  a 
swift  current.  What  I  liked,  ladies,  was  that  he  asked  my 
opinion  before  he  attempted  it ;  and  that  he  did  it  as  if 
it  were  matter  of  course.  Conference  passed  a  vote  of  thanks 
to  us,  for  it  was  very  important  we  should  be  there.  Mr. 
Venable,"  the  old  man  continued  slowly,  more  and  more 
conscious,  as  he  spoke,  of  the  sudden  chill  in  Miss  Jones's 
manner,  "  is  young,  quite  young.  He  is  excitable,  possibly 
extravagant.  But  he  has  noble  qualities.  Under  suitable 
guidance  there  is  the  stuff  of  a  man  in  him.  I  am  free  to 
say,"  the  speaker  continued,  drawing,  after  some  search,  a 
document  in  an  official  envelope  from  a  breast-pocket,  "that 
I  had  with  me  this  protest  against  his  settling  over  the  First 
Church.  I  intended  to  urge  it  upon  conference.  I  did  not 
present  it,  however.  When  I  left  the  navy,  ladies,  I  resolved 
never  to  use  the  peculiar  dialect  of  the  navy,  profane  or 
otherwise.  I  believe  I  have  kept  my  resolve.  And  now," 
added  the  commodore,  with  great  self-importance,  as  he 
arose,  walked  to  the  hearth,  and  threw  the  document  into  the 
fire,  "  I  have  made  another  resolve.  I  need  not  mention  it. 
As  Miss  Zenobia  has  observed,"  he  added  as  he  took  his 
leave,  "  there  is  really  nothing  whatever  in  the  matter  to 
which  Miss  Irene  has  alluded,  —  nothing  whatever.  We  are 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  155 

agreed  not  to  speak  of  it ;  "  and  with  special  courtesy  toward 
Miss  Jones,  he  departed.  Miss  Aurelia  left  soon  after. 

"  There  is  the  money  I  spoke  of  for  your  guest,"  she  said 
to  Zeo  as  she  emptied  the  coins  out  of  the  purse  upon  the 
mantle,  and  replaced  it  in  her  pocket.  "  Tell  him  it  is  for 
the  miserable." 

Her  tones  were  as  metallic  as  the  sound  of  the  gold  upon 
the  marble  ;  and  the  tears  came  into  Zeo's  eyes  in  sympathy 
with  those,  so  much  more  bitter,  which  remained  unshed  in 
the  heart  of  the  other  as  she  took  her  leave. 

To  the  commodore,  as  to  Miss  Aurelia,  the  First  Church 
was  the  one  object  in  life,  neither  having  any  other  employ- 
ment. By  the  habit  of  years,  the  change  in  the  lady  neces- 
sitated a  change  toward  Mr.  Venable  in  the  other ;  and,  for 
every  reason,  he  was  glad  to  make  it.  But  the  change  in 
her  was  not  to  be  measured  by  his,  nor  by  any  masculine 
measure  whatever. 

"  Irene,"  Zeo  said  as  soon  as  the  company  was  gone,  but 
with  evident  reluctance  and  not  looking  at  her,  "  who  told 
you  that  about  Mr.  Venable  ?  " 

"  Nobody  !  There  was  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it,"  her  sister 
said  defiantly.  "  He  told  me  that  the  poor  girl  was  so  beau- 
tiful, he  wondered  her  mother  did  not  make  her  a  model, 
and  persisted  in  changing  the  subject :  that  was  all." 

"  O  sister,  how  could  you  "  — 

"  Hush,  Zeo  !  I  only  did  it  to  tease  that  poor,  or  rather, 
that  rich,  old  maid.  Who,"  demanded  Irene,  "  could  have 
thought  it  would  have  hurt  her  so?  But  I  don't  care. 
No,  hush  !  I  won't  listen  to  you  !  I  get  so  desperate  over 
our  troubles,  I  don't  care  what  I  do.  It  is  none  of  your 
business.  Yes,"  she  added  rapidly,  and  somewhat  bitterly, 
"it  is  your  business.  You  poor  little  thing,  he  is  in  love 
with  you  /  Blushing,  are  you  ?  Yes,  you  know  he  is  !  A 
clergyman  should  have  more  self-control  when  you  are  in 


156  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

the  room  —  I  won't  stop  !  While  he  is  pretending  to  listen 
to  me,  he  is  devouring  you,  miss,  with  his  fine  eyes ;  and 
when  you  axe  not  there,  he  has  so  much  work  to  do,  he  really 
cannot  stay.  I  will  tell  the  governor  of  it  the  next  time  he 
calls.  You  treacherous  girl !  "  But  Zeo  had  left  the  room. 


A  YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  157 


CHAPTER  XV. 

DESCRIBING  A  WONDERFUL  RIDE   IN  THE  TERRAQUEOUS 
MACHINE. 

ONE  night,  about  a  week  after  the  events  recorded  in 
the  last  chapter,  a  number  of  persons  found  themselves 
at  the  house  of  Mr.  Parsons.  They  had  been  summoned 
by  that  gentleman  himself,  speeding  after  dark  and  in  breath- 
less haste  from  street  to  street.  For  months  he  had  prom- 
ised them  a  ride  upon  his  terraqueous  machine  on  its  trial 
trip.  Every  soul  had  been  told  of  it  under  seal  of  strictest 
secrecy :  as  a  consequence  of  which,  St.  Jerome  was  thor- 
oughly informed  of  the  fact.  Mr.  Parsons's  house  was  at  some 
distance  from  town,  however,  near  the  sea-beach ;  and  this 
rapid  assembling  under  cover  of  night  enabled  the  inventor 
to  baffle  the  curiosity  of  the  city.  Col.  Roland  was  of  the 
party,  note-book  and  freshly-sharpened  pencil  in  his  breast- 
pocket ;  and,  with  the  dawn  of  day,  the  great  motor  was 
to  be  heralded,  by  his  paper,  to  the  world.  All  were  in 
high  spirits,  laughing  and  talking  as  they  stole  in  together 
like  conspirators.  Their  host  had  enjoined  silence ;  which, 
with  the  splendor  of  the  clear  and  starlighted  night,  and  the 
curiosity  alternating  with  certainty  of  failure  as  to  their  ride, 
imparted  by  each  one  to  every  other  as  they  trooped  in, 
made  it  as  noisy  a  gathering  as  could  be  imagined.  The 
discoverer  had  ushered  them  in,  meeting  them,  as  they 
came,  at  his  front  gate,  with  many  a  "  Hush,  if  you  please. 


158  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

Hush  !  Hush  !  "  And  all  had  arrived  on  foot,  Mr.  Parsons 
having  promised  to  deliver  each  one  at  home  at  the  end  of 
the  ride. 

"  Rome  was  betrayed  by  the  cackling  of  geese,"  he  said, 
with  some  vexation,  as  he  stood  among  his  noisy  guests 
assembled  at  last  in  the  room,  his  thin  hair  scattered  on  his 
head,  his  tall  and  gaunt  frame  taller  and  gaunter  than  ever, 
his  eyes  more  sunken,  his  words  more  rapid.  "Do  hush, 
dear  friends  !  You  will  alarm  the  whole  island  !  "  he  en- 
treated nervously. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Parsons,"  said  Mr.  Venable, 
who  was  as  much  excited  as  any :  "  it  was  the  geese  saved 
Rome." 

"  And  we  are  on  a  wild-goose  affair,  anyhow,  you  know," 
added  Irene  Buttolph ;  and  the  chattering  grew  worse  than 
before,  Mr.  Farce  Fanthorp  only  more  extravagant  in  his 
spirits  than  Col.  Roland  and  the  rest.  Capt.  Chaffin  was 
the  one  alone  who  behaved  himself  in  virtue  of  being  always 
wooden,  and  even  when  under  worse  wind  and  flying  froth 
than  that.  The  sudden  adventure  of  the  hour  had  stirred 
the  blood  of  Zeo  too :  her  eyes  sparkled,  her  cheeks 
glowed ;  she  tried  to  cast  out  of  her  mind  her  father,  lying 
asleep  at  home.  Grit  had  been  sternly  denied  being  pres- 
ent by  the  inventor,  who  had  yielded  to  his  entreaty,  not 
until  after  the  assurance  of  Zeo,  that,  if  he  could  not  come, 
she  would  not.  As  radiant  as  any  there,  the  boy  stood  by 
his  sister,  full  as  a  boy  could  hold  of  the  fun  of  the  hour. 

"  Now,  friends,"  Mr.  Parsons,  who  had  been  hurrying  in 
and  out  of  the  room,  said  at  last,  "we  are  about  to  take  the 
most  rapid  ride  of  our  lives.  I  hope  to  make  many  miles 
an  hour.  Your  nerves  will  be  tested  to  the  utmost.  Food 
is  necessary  before  we  start.  A  little  supper  awaits  you  in 
the  dining-room.  Come  at  once  ! "  and  the  company  fol- 
lowed him  into  the  apartment,  to  find  Mrs.  Parsons  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  Owny  at  her  side. 


A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  1 59 

"Friends,"  began  the  inventor,  after  he  had  motioned 
them  to  their  places  at  the  abundant  board,  "  there  is  not  an 
article  of  food  upon  this  table  that  is  not  of  my  own  inven- 
tion. Of  some  you  have  partaken  .before,  with  pleasure  you 
said  at  the  time.  Some  are  wholly  new  to  you.  There  are 
articles  on  this  table,  from  which,  if  you  knew  what  they  were 
in  their  original  condition,  you  would  turn  with  loathing  and 
horror.  I  have  passed  them,  however,  through  certain  pro- 
cesses by  virtue  of  which  they  are  delicious.  Out  of  the 
offal  of  the  kitchen  and  the  streets,  I  have  created,  as  our 
Maker  does  by  his  processes  in  nature,  a  food  for  the  poor 
which  will  cost  almost  nothing.  I  have  transmuted  even  the 
dirt  itself  into  delicacies.  Not  one  solitary  article  of  this 
board,  I  repeat,"  he  said,  with  outspread  hands,  "but  is 
my  own  invention.  —  Mr.  Venable,  ask  a  blessing  !  —  I  had 
hoped,"  he  added,  holding  the  minister  in  abeyance  for  a 
moment  with  his  extended  hand,  "  to  have  had  his  Excel- 
lency Gov.  Magruder  with  us.  He  promised  when  I  told 
him  Miss  Zenobia  was  to  take  part.  He  is  detained  on  his 
plantation.  —  Proceed,  Mr.  Venable." 

It  was  some  moments  before  that  gentleman  did  so  :  the 
stifled  mirth  of  Irene  Buttolph  and  the  rest,  as  well  as  his 
own,  making  it  hard  to  do. 

"And  now,  friends,"  Mrs.  Parsons  said  from  her  end  of  the 
board,  before  he  had  well  finished,  "  Mr.  Parsons  says  eat ; 
but  I  say,  as  you  value  your  lives,  don't !  We  don't  intend 
to,  Owny  here  and  I,  —  not  a  single  bit !  "  and  the  laughing 
hostess,  who  had  welcomed  them  as  they  entered,  with  a 
comical  warning  of  uplifted  hands  and  shaken  head,  joined 
in  their  mirth,  the  loudest  of  them  all,  certainly  the  plumpest 
and  most  jovial  there. 

"  My  Ezra  Micajah  Papa  is  good,  but  his  dinner  isn't 
good,"  little  Owny  announced  at  this  moment ;  put  up  to  it, 
it  is  to  be  feared,  by  her  mother.  It's  all  "harkyf"  the 
little  beauty  added  with  emphasis,  her  rosy  face  screwed  up 


l6O  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

into  a  disgust  comical  to  see,  amid  peals  of  laughter.  But 
the  inventor  was  used  to  ridicule.  Seated  at  his  end  of  the 
table,  his  long  body  stooped  over  his  plate,  taking  enormous 
mouthfuls,  as  is  the  habit  of  all  men  who  are  long  and  gaunt, 
after  heaping,  as  was  also  his  wont,  the  cup  and  platter  of 
every  one  else  with  more  than  could  be  consumed,  Mr.  Par- 
sons set  them  an  example  of  appetite.  Mr.  Quatty  was 
seated  near  by ;  but  he  was  not  used  to  being  in  company, 
and  was  largely  taken  up  with  the  proper  disposition  of  his 
legs  and  hands,  to  say  nothing  of  his  knife  and  fork,  break- 
ing a  glass  in  his  confusion,  for  he  was,  in  addition,  always 
restless  when  separated  from  his  horses.  The  only  one  who 
emulated  the  host  in  appetite  was  Grit.  Like  all  boys  of 
his  hearty  age,  he  was  always  ready  for  food.  Besides,  it 
was  a  midnight  picnic,  with  a  suspicion  of  wickedness  in  it ; 
and  little  he  understood  or  cared  for  the  originals  out  of 
which  the  inventor's  chemistry  had  produced  the  pies,  cakes, 
preserves,  soups,  tarts,  and  delicately-browned  custards,  be- 
fore him.  The  fun  of  the  company  he  enjoyed  incidentally  : 
to  the  eating  he  gave  his  serious  attention. 

"  You'll  //'//  yourself,  'ittle  boy,"  Owny,  who  was  seated 
beside  him,  remarked,  after  watching,  her  blue  eyes  opened 
to  their  widest,  the  way  in  which  Grit  despatched  his  food. 
Her  voice  was  drowned  in  the  clatter  of  knives  and  plates, 
as  well  as  of  laughter.  Not  that  any  one  except  Grit  and 
Mr.  Parsons  were  eating  especially.  With  unusual  interest, 
each  in  every  other,  everybody  at  table  was  politely  offering 
and  urging  the  nearest  delicacies  upon  all  in  reach,  declin- 
ing with  thanks,  and  making  but  the  faintest  show  of  par- 
taking, in  their  own  case  ;  the  one  who  entered  most  heartily 
into  the  fun  of  the  hour  being  the  wife  of  the  host. 

"  Take  care,  Col.  Roland,"  she  cried  :  "  that  butter  is  only 
lard  churned  in  milk.  — You  had  better  not,  Miss  Zenobia  : 
that  nice-looking  bread  is  chiefly  bones  ground  fine.  —  Don't, 
Mr.  Fanthorp,  as  you  value  your  life  :  that  bronze  jelly  is  the 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  l6l 

horns  and  hoofs  of  oxen ;  I  saw  him  crush  them  myself.  —  I 
wouldn't,  Mr.  Venable,"  she  continued,  laughing  until  the 
tears  ran  down  her  full  and  rosy  cheeks :  "  as  sure  as  you 
live,  those  cakes  were  cut  in  those  beautiful  shapes  out  of  the 
hides  of  the  things  he  slaughtered ;  he  soaked  them  in  acids, 
and  then  cooked  them  in  sirup.  —  Grit,  my  dear,  that 
brown  powder  on  the  custards  is  blood  burned  to  a  crisp  and 
then  pulverized."  And,  amid  exclamations  and  screams  of 
surprise,  the  hour  passed.  Fortunately  Mr.  Parsons  ate  as 
swiftly  as  he  did  every  thing  else. 

"  Hurry  up,  my  son,"  he  said  to  Grit,  who  was  not  quite 
done.  "  You  are  the  most  sensible  one  at  the  table.  Put 
any  thing  you  like  in  your  pocket.  But  come,  we  must  go. 
Our  trip  must  be  done  before  day.  Now,  friends,"  he  added 
in  a  voice  and  manner  which  was  becoming  more  excited  as 
the  event  approached,  leading  his  guests  back  into  the  par- 
lor, waving  and  hurrying  them  on  with  both  his  long  arms, 
"  put  on  your  things  ;  and,  mind,  I  am  skipper  of  this  cruise. 
If  any  one  here  is  not  going  to  obey  me,  instantly  and  abso- 
lutely and  to  the  end,  let  that  person  go  home.  All  who  will 
consent  to  that,  let  them,"  he  added,  as  they  stood  ready 
around  him,  "  follow  me  and  Capt.  Chaffin." 

As  Mr.  Parsons  and  the  captain  disappeared,  Mr.  Quatty 
suddenly  placed  himself  between  the  company  about  to  fol- 
low him,  and  the  door.  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Quatty  spent  his 
waking  hours  upon  the  seat  of  some  vehicle  or  other,  driving 
from  one  horse  to  four,  and  usually  at  full  speed,  all  the 
time  ;  and,  where  there  was  so  much  around  him  of  life  and 
motion,  his  fingers  itched  for  the  reins  and  the  whip. 

"  Excuse  me  one  moment,"  he  said,  awkwardly,  but  none 
the  less  blocking  their  way  out ;  "  whoa  !  I  mean,  hold  on  a 
little.  This,"  he  continued,  his  long,  loose-jointed  body 
hung  to  one  side,  to  balance  his  arms  extended  on  the  other, 
in  the  direction  of  their  departed  host,  "  this,  Mr.  Parsons 
tells  us,  is  the  inauguration  of  what  is  to  be  a  revolution  in 


1 62  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

travel ;  a  grand  insurrection  against  horses,  as  I  understand  it. 
I  desire  to  make  a  few  remarks,  ahem  !  before  we  start,  you 
see.  I  was  at  one  time  only  an  oysterman,  although  I  some- 
times dealt  in  clams.  Having  become  a  Christian,  I  wish  to 
benefit  my  fellow-men.  So  far  as  I  can,  I  never  let  an  op- 
portunity pass  so  to  do.  Now,  friends  and  fellow-country- 
zens,  —  I  mean  fellow-city-mens,  —  never  mind,  you  know 
what  I  am  driving  at.  Who  knows,"  Mr.  Quatty  continued, 
in  the  tones  of  an  orator,  "  to  what  a  smash-up  we  are  pro- 
ceeding? We  may  all  end  up  in  eternity.  A  few  re- 
marks"— 

"  Phip  Quatty,  you  are  a  fool ! "  Mr.  Parsons  said,  sud- 
denly appearing  from  behind  him  as  he  stood  in  the  door. 
"  Come,"  thrusting  him  aside  with  anxious  arm,  "  make 
haste  !  It  is  late  !  " 

"  Take  warning  !  he  wanted  to  take  Owny,  but  I  wouldn't 
let  her  go ;  and  /  won't.  You'd  better  not :  don't  go  !  " 
Mrs.  Parsons  called  to  them  as  they  trooped  out,  standing 
in  the  doorway  laughing,  and  holding  Owny  up  in  her  vigor- 
ous arms.  It  was  a  pretty  sight,  the  joyous  woman  and  her 
beautiful  child,  as  the  two  filled  the  doorway,  the  parlor 
lamps  lighting  them  up  from  behind,  and  making  the  golden 
hair  of  the  child  like  an  aureole  about  its  head.  The  party, 
as  they  followed  Mr.  Parsons,  looked  back,  scolding  the 
wife  merrily ;  for  all  were  in  highest  spirits.  No  one  hesi- 
tated, however.  While  they  had  small  faith  in  the  Terraque- 
ous Machine,  all  had  perfect  trust  in  the  well-known  good- 
ness of  the  inventor.  No  fear  of  his  leading  them  into 
danger. 

"  Now,"  said  that  gentleman  when  he  had  led  them  across 
the  entire  grounds,  stumbling  and  tripping  over  kegs  and  all 
sorts  of  machinery  and  implements,  "  now  understand.  This 
is  the  door  of  the  shop  which  holds  my  machine.  Until  I 
have  tried  it,  and  find  that  it  is  free  from  all  mistake,  I  intend 
no  soul  of  you  shall  see  it  I  have  made  mistakes  before, 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  163 

but  I  am  pretty  sure  this  time.  You  will  enter  a  room. 
After  I  have  locked  you  in,  and  the  light  out,  I  will  open 
another  door,  and  hand  you  up  by  a  few  steps  into  the  ma- 
chine. Your  part  of  it  is  covered  in  like  an  omnibus.  Sit 
down  in  it,  and  sit  still.  Ready?  "  And,  after  an  assurance 
to  that  effect,  the  inventor  did  as  he  had  said,  helping  each 
up,  in  the  darkness,  into  a  large  vehicle  of  some  sort,  with  a 
hand  which  each  person  wondered  at  as  it  held  his  or  hers, 
it  was  so  hot  and  hurried. 

"All  in?"  he  called,  in  an  eager  voice.  "Do  make 
haste.  Laugh  as  much  as  you  please,  only  hurry.  Hurry  ! 
All  in?" 

Then,  as  the  company  adjusted  themselves  as  well  as  they 
could  in  the  midnight  interior,  upon  cushioned  seats,  "  Phip 
Quatty  !  "  they  heard  their  host  call  as  he  shut  and  locked 
the  door.  There  was  the  tramp  of  horses ;  and  then,  "  You 
are  not  a  fool  at  all,  oh,  no  ! "  Mr.  Quatty  was  heard  to 
exclaim,  amid  the  jingling  of  harness  and  the  backing  of 
horses  :  "  Oh,  not  a  bit,  certainly  not ;  we'll  see  !  G'lang  !  " 
and,  with  the  crack  of  a  whip,  the  vehicle  rolled  out,  the 
passengers  being  at  the  hinder  end  thereof. 

"Strike  for  the  beach,  Phip.  All  right,  Chaffin?"  Mr. 
Parsons,  who  seemed  stationed  upon  the  step  outside  the 
door  which  he  had  closed  upon  them,  called  out. 

"  Ay,  ay !  "  Capt.  Chaffin  was  heard  to  reply  from  the 
front. 

"  Then  go  ahead  !  I'll  steer  when  we  strike  the  beach. 
Drive  ahead,  Quatty  !  " 

"  I  do  not  like  this.  I  do  not  like  this  at  all !  "  Irene 
Buttolph  exclaimed. 

"  Why,  Irene  !  "  her  sister  was  heard  in  reply.  "  It  is  only 
a  wagon  drawn  by  horses.  How  fast  they  go  !  Listen. 
We  have  got  on  the  beach.  Hear  how  their  hoofs  ring  on  it. 
And  how  the  wind  whistles,  and  the  surf  roars.  It  is  only 
Mr.  Parsons's  joke.  How  fast  we  go  !  " 


164  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"  That  will  do,"  they  heard  Mr.  Parsons  shout.  "  Chaffin  ! 
Now,  Chaffin,  now  !  "  and  a  moment  after,  amid  a  good  deal 
of  thumping  upon  the  roof  of  their  conveyance,  as  well  as 
of  creaking  and  cracking,  they  heard  the  same  voice,  "  Phip 
Quatty  !  "  and  in  rapid,  excited  tones,  not  as  easily  heard  now 
in  the  roar  of  the  wind  and  sea,  "  Look  out !  you  will  be  run 
down  :  cast  off !  "  The  same  moment  Mr.  Quatty  could  be 
heard  yelling  to  his  horses,  and  cracking  his  whip.  Somehow 
the  sound  of  hoofs  was  now  to  one  side ;  then  the  voice 
of  their  driver  died  instantly  away  behind  them.  But  the 
vehicle  kept  on,  —  kept  on  at  a  speed  which  was  evidently 
increasing,  and  so  on  and  on,  in  the  wondering  silence  of  all, 
for  a  while.  Possibly  twenty  minutes  may  have  passed  ;  but 
it  seemed  to  the  passengers  more  than  that,  all  attempts  at 
conversation  or  amusement  being  held  in  suspense  by  the 
novelty  of  their  situation. 

"  Let  me  out !  "  shrieked  Irene  at  last,  evidently  struggling 
with  her  sister.  "  I  won't  hush  !  We  are  going  out  to  sea. 
Help  !  help  !  If  there  is  a  gentleman  here,  he  will  break 
open  that  door  !  Col.  Roland  !  Mr.  Fanthorp  !  Mr.  Vena- 
ble  !  Mr.  Parsons  !  Stop  !  let  me  out ! "  and  the  excited 
girl  screamed  as  if  beside  herself. 

"  We  can't  stop,"  Mr.  Parsons  shouted,  opening  a  slide  in 
the  door,  and  putting  in  his  head.  "  I  solemnly  assure  you 
there  is  not  the  least  danger.  We  could  go  to  sea.  I  in- 
tend we  shall  go  to  sea.  But  not  yet.  Don't  scream  so : 
you  distract  my  steering.  It's  all  right,"  in  jubilant  tones, 
as  he  shut  the  slide  again.  No  wonder :  the  vehicle  seemed 
to  be  flying  over  the  earth ;  the  howling  of  the  wind  and 
the  sea  swelling  the  horror  of  the  darkness  to  those  within, 
and  the  screams  of  Irene,  after  some  cessation,  rang  loud 
and  louder. 

"  Why,  Irene  !  "  her  brother  was  heard  to  yell,  "  Hold  your 
tongue.  It's  the  bulliest  ride  you  ever  had.  Zeo  ain't 
afraid.  You  hush  ! "  The  terrified  girl,  however,  continued 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  165 

to  scream,  until  Mr.  Venable,  despairing  of  influencing  the 
exultant  inventor,  tried  for  Capt.  Chaffin. 

"  Captain  ! "  he  called,  rising  and  steadying  himself  with 
difficulty  in  the  vehicle,  which  swayed  from  side  to  side  in 
what  seemed  to  be  its  terrific  and  ever-increasing  speed. 

"Ay,  ay  !     What  is  it,  Mr.  Venable? "  was  the  reply. 

"  A  lady  is  frightened ;  hold  up  !  " 

"  Don't  do  it :  go  on  !  "  saluted  the  captain's  ears  at  the 
same  instant,  from  Mr.  Parsons.  There  was  an  unloosening 
of  something  in  front,  a  creaking,  a  crash  upon  the  roof, 
and  the  conveyance  slowly  slacked  its  speed ;  and,  Irene 
Buttolph  diminishing  her  outcries  accordingly,  both  the  lady 
and  the  machine  came  to  a  stop  finally  at  the  same  moment. 

"Chaffin,"  shouted  Mr.  Parsons  from  his  end,  "you  are 
discharged  !  " 

"  Discharge  away  ! "  was  yelled  in  reply  from  the  other. 
(The  captain  explained  himself  to  Mr.  Fanthorp,  the  next 
time  he  met  him  on  the  streets,  to  this  effect :  — 

"I  knew  Mr.  Parsons  would  be  dreadfully  mad  at  my 
stopping  you  all ;  but  the  way  I  put  it  up,"  he  argued  with 
his  two  thumbs  point  to  point,  "was  this.  Weemen  are 
so  dedicate  !  Suppose  it  had  been  my  wife  !  I  thought  of 
that,  and  I  shut  down.  I  tell  you,  we  are  tough  as  you 
please  :  they  ain't.  Dedicate  is  not  the  word  for  it.  They 
are  what  we  will  be  if  so  be  we  ever  get  to  heaven.  Think 
so?"  But  this  explanation  was  some  days  after.) 

"  The  next  time  I  go,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Parsons  as  he  un- 
locked the  door  and  let  them  out,  "  I'll  pick  my  passengers 
a  little  better  ! "  greatly  enraged. 

"But  it  is  a  lady,  Mr.  Parsons  !  "  Mr.  Venable  explained  : 
"  besides,  it  is  a  glorious  success  !  " 

"  That's  a  fact !  But  keep  away  from  the  front,"  the 
inventor  added  sternly.  "  Not  a  soul  shall  see.  Get  in 
again  while  Chaffin  and  I  fix  some  way  to  get  you  back." 
For  the  passengers  had  got  out  into  the  moonlight,  the 


1 66  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

mounds  of  sand  washed  up  by  the  sea  being  on  one  side  of 
them,  the  surf  foaming  to  their  feet  on  the  other.  "  It's  a 
shame,  a  burning  shame,"  he  added,  as  the  party  got  in 
once  more,  out  of  the  wind  and  flying  spray.  "  I  was  going 
to  steer  you  all  out  to  sea,  —  at  least,  I  was  thinking  of  doing 
so!" 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Parsons,"  Col.  Roland  and  Mr.  Fan- 
thorp  said  in  a  breath,  "  but  this  will  do  for  the  present." 

The  truth  is,  Irene  Buttolph  had  only  put  into  screams 
what  all  had  more  or  less  felt,  as  they  soon  agreed  in  the 
excited  conversation  which  ensued.  "But  how  are  we  to 
get  home?  "  was  the  chorus  with  which  it  ended. 

"  Oh  !  I  fixed,"  the  inventor  said,  somewhat  angrily,  "  for 
Phip  Quatty  to  follow  with  horses  in  case  of  accident.  He'll 
be  here  in  an  hour  —  no,  not  for  about  two  hours,"  he  cor- 
rected himself  with  vindictive  pleasure.  "  In  ten  minutes 
more  we  would  have  turned  the  end  of  the  island,  and  had 
the  smooth  water  of  the  bay.  This  isn't  a  land  wagon  only, 
it's  a  Terraqueous  Machine,"  he  said  with  emphasis  :  "  what 
it  has  done  on  shore  isn't  a  circumstance  to  what  it  can  do 
on  water.  Afraid  ?  Bah  !  Fiddlesticks  !  Stuff  and  non- 
sense !  Con-cern  Chaffin  !  "  Mr.  Parsons  .added.  He  was 
guarding  his  passengers  lest  they  should  get  out  and  pry  into 
the  mysteries,  at  Capt.  Chaffin's  end  of  the  machine,  of  his 
wonderful  motor.  Sitting  within  and  near  the  half-shut  door, 
Mr.  Venable  could  not  help  hearing  an  additional  sentence 
from  the  lips  of  the  excited  and  exasperated  inventor.  It 
was  but  one  sentence,  and  spoken  in  a  lowered  voice ;  but 
a  sentence  or  so,  and  yet  the  alarm  of  Irene  Buttolph  was 
pleasure  compared  to  his  feeling  at  the  words  he  heard,  — 
words  which  stunned  him  at  first.  And  it  was  not  for 
months  afterward  that  they  ceased  to  shock  him  as  at  first. 
These  words,  which  nothing  save  the  disappointment  could 
have  compelled  from  a  man  like  Mr.  Parsons,  were  merely,  — 

"  Con-cern  Chaffin  !     One  would  suppose  a  crazy  wife 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  l? 

and  two  idiots  for  children  was  enough,  without  a  fool  for 
a  fourth  ! " 

But  Mr.  Venable  had  no  time  to  take  in  the  full  horror 
of  the  words  then.  It  had  been  singularly  warm  for  the  sea- 
son of  the  year,  almost  sultry,  even  in  that  climate.  While 
the  rest  were  conversing  together  in  their  confinement,  Mr. 
Venable,  feeling  as  if  he  must  get  away  from  them  or  suffo- 
cate, broke  through  Mr.  Parsons's  resisting  hands,  got  out, 
and  walked  down  to  the  edge  of  the  inrolling  surf.  The  sky 
was  clear,  and  the  sea  was  smooth  under  the  mild  air ;  a 
thousand  stars  sleeping  upon  its  slow  and  oil-like  swell  and 
subsidence.  Low  down  in  the  northern  horizon,  he  observed 
a  cloud,  the  only  one  in  sight,  small,  but  singularly  black. 
But  what  arrested  his  attention  was  that  the  cloud  was  con- 
tinually opening  to  show  a  heart  of  fire,  and  closing  again ; 
increasing  very  rapidly  as  he  gazed,  the  alternate  blackness 
and  brightness  growing  more  vivid.  Although  the  atmos- 
phere around  him  was  perfectly  still,  there  was  a  sound  of 
roaring  in  the  direction  of  the  cloud  ;  and  as  if  in  a  moment 
it  had  rushed  upon  them  with  all  its  lightnings.  Before 
the  observer  could  hasten  to  the  machine,  the  wind  was 
howling  in  a  hurricane ;  and  as  the  cry,  "A  norther  !  "  came 
from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Parsons,  an  arctic  winter  seemed  to  have 
rushed  in  an  instant  into  what  had  been  almost  summer 
weather. 

"  Hustle  in,  hustle  in,  Mr.  Venable,"  the  inventor  said,  as 
the  rain  mingled  with  hail  came  down  in  torrents.  "  Don't 
be  screaming  in  that  way,  Miss  Irene  !  "  he  had  to  say  it  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  the  roaring  of  the  tempest  was  such. 
"  Stuff  and  nonsense  !  It  is  only  a  norther.  I  knew  it  was 
coming  when  we  stopped,  and  ran  the  invention  high  up  the 
bank,  out  of  reach  of  the  surf.  You'll  find  plenty  of  wrap- 
pings under  the  cushions  in  there." 

"  But  when  are  we  to  get  home  ? "  Mr.  Venable,  being 
nearest  to  the  door,  remonstrated. 


1 68  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"  Home  ?  Fiddlesticks  !  "  replied  the  irritated  inventor. 
"  Mr.  Quatty's  coming  with  his  horses,  as  I  told  you.  All 
you  have  got  to  do  is  to  do  nothing.  —  Is  that  you,  Quatty  ? 
Yes,  here  he  is  now.  Hitch  up,  man,  and  get  these  trouble- 
some people  back." 

But  it  was  daybreak  when,  his  invention  hauled  slowly 
along  the  beach  and  into  its  house  again,  Mr.  Parsons  handed 
them  out  of  the  machine  and  the  building  which  concealed  it. 

"  Run,  every  soul  of  you,  to  the  house  ! "  he  said,  "  and 
you'll  find  my  wife  has  something,  I  dare  say,  for  you  to  eat, 
although  you  don't  deserve  it." 

But  better  than  Mrs.  Parsons's  hot  and  abundant  breakfast, 
was  the  glee  with  which  she  and  Owny  welcomed  them. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  so  ! "  she  said,  radiant  with  triumph. 
"  We  believe,  Owny  and  I,  in  Ezra  Micajah  Papa ;  but  we 
don't  believe  in  his  inventions,  not  one  bit !  But  sit  down, 
sit  down.  This  is  a  breakfast  Owny  and  I  invented  :  he  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it." 


A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  169 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MR.   VENABLE   BEGINS  TO   BREAK   HIS   SHELL  TOWARD 
ENTERING  UPON  A  LARGER  LIFE. 

GEN.  BUTTOLPH  had  put  at  the  disposal  of  his  guest 
a  young  and  spirited  horse  ;  but  one  afternoon,  when 
Mr.  Venable  wished  to  take  a  ride,  young  Plenty  was  absent, 
and  he  went  into  the  stable  to  saddle  the  horse  for  himself. 
Behind  it  was  an  open  shed,  into  which  the  April  sun  had 
been  shining  warmly ;  and,  as  he  began  to  saddle  his  horse, 
he  heard  old  Plenty's  voice  as  the  aged  negro  sunned  him- 
self therein.  What  he  had  gathered  when  he  first  listened 
to  the  soliloquy  of  the  poor  old  soul  had  so  distressed  him 
that  he  had  refrained  afterward  from  giving  ear  to  him  when- 
ever he  heard  him  talking  to  himself  about  the  grounds. 
Now,  however,  the  tones  of  the  negro  were  so  peculiar  that 
he  stopped  to  listen  as  the  other  said,  — 

"  I'll  line  it  out,  an'  you   sing :  "   and   then  in   a  high 

recitative,  — 

"  '  When  I  can  read  my  title  clear 
To  mansions  in  de  skies '  "  — 

and  in  a  cracked  and  feeble  voice  he  sung  the  words  to  a 
familiar  tune,  adding  at  the  end,- "  Ef  you  can't  sing  up  more 
peart  dan  dat,  you  lazy  ole  creeter,  you  better  shet  up.  Now 
den,"  —  in  high  recitative  again,  — 

"  '  I'll  bid  far'well  to  ebbry  fear, 
An'  wipe  my  weepin'  eyes.' " 


I/O  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

And  yet  again  the  weak  and  trembling  voice  of  the  soli- 
tary worshipper  arose  in  song.  There  was  such  sincerity  in 
this  prayer-meeting  of  which  old  Plenty  was  both  congrega- 
tion and  leader,  that  the  other  listened  to  verse  after  verse 
alternately  lined  out  and  sung.  The  old  negro  never  failed 
to  rebuke  himself  between  the  lining-out  and  the  singing ; 
but  he  was  cruelly  unjust,  for  he  was  evidently  doing  his  best, 
feeble  as  it  was,  every  time. 

" Now,"  he  said  at  last,  "I  is  goin'  to  try  an'  lead  dis  here 
meetin'  in  prar ;  an'  when  I  pray,  what  I  want  you  to  do  is  to 
pray  !  Ef  you  can't  sing,"  he  added  with  sarcastic  severity, 
"  try  an'  see,  you  mis'rable  sinner,  ef  you  can't  pray  anyhow. 
Don't  you  go  to  lyin'  to  your  Marster,  makin'  believe  to  pray 
when  you  know  you  ain't  prayin'." 

But  the  listener  made  haste  to  leave ;  for,  from  the  begin- 
ning, the  supplicant  made  such  importunate  entreaties  for 
his  "  weeked  mars  general,"  for  "  dat  highty-flighty  Miss 
Reny,"  that  he  wanted  to  hear  no  more ;  but,  as  he  led  his 
horse  out,  he  could  not  help  hearing  one  thanksgiving,  so 
hearty  was  it,  for  "  dat  blessed  angel  sent  to  save  dis  house, 
my  Miss  Zeo  :  you  is  mighty  sensible  to  send  her,  Lord ; " 
and  Mr.  Venable  rode  away  with  food  for  .reflection. 

The  April  sun  had  gone  behind  clouds  as  he  left  the 
grounds,  and  it  was  not  of  Zeo  Buttolph  that  he  was  thinking. 

"  It  was  a  terrible  shock  when  I  heard  Mr.  Parsons  say 
that  of  Clara  Chaffingsby,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  rode,  un- 
consciously imitating  the  negro  in  his  conference  with  him- 
self, "  to  know  that  she  is  an  " —  But  he  could  not  repeat, 
even  to  himself,  such  a  word  of  one  so  beautiful. 

"It  is  /  who  am  the  idiot,"  he  thought.  "  I  might  have 
known  it  a  hundred  times  over  from  what  people  hinted  to 
me  before  I  saw  her ;  from  her  childish  way  when  I  did  ;  " 
and  he  was  filled  with  self-contempt  until  a  tender  and  lov- 
ing pity  instead,  for  the  poor  girl,  flooded  his  heart.  "  By 
the  by,"  he  soliloquized,  "  that  must  be  the  reason  Miss  Irene 


A  YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  1 71 

has  been  so  disdainful  and  sarcastic  with  me  of  late  ;  "  and 
he  felt  his  cheeks  burn. 

Touching  his  horse  with  the  spur,  he  galloped  as  if  to 
escape  from  himself  along  the  hard  beach,  not  drawing  rein 
until  he  was.  miles  away  from  St.  Jerome.  On  his  left  hand 
was  the  dreary  expanse  of  sand,  which  composed  the  island : 
not  a  tree  was  in  sight.  Outside  the  suburbs  of  the  city  not 
a  house  was  to  be  seen,  great  or  small ;  nothing  but  the 
sandy  surface  heaped  into  hillocks  or  ridged  into  long  lines 
as  the  withdrawing  sea  had  left  it,  with  here  and  there  a  pool 
of  blackish  water.  A  scanty  tuft  of  grass  appeared  now  and 
then,  diversified  with  prickly  pears,  chapparal  bushes,  mes- 
quite  shrubs. 

"  The  grass  is  coarse,  and  the  miserable  shrubs  are  black 
and  contorted,  from  eternal  wrestling  with  winds  and  water," 
he  reflected  as  he  rode.  "They  cling  none  the  less  to  the 
sand,  fighting  desperately  for  dear  life  as  if  they  thought 
life  was  worth  it !  " 

The  sea  stretched  out  to  the  dim  horizon  on  his  right,  but 
not  a  sail  was  in  sight.  A  dull,  leaden  day  rested  upon  it  all, 
through  which  the  sea-gulls  flew  heavily  as  if  their  wings 
were  clogged ;  and  he  turned  his  horse  at  last,  and  rode  slow- 
ly homeward. 

"  I  thought  Gen.  Buttolph  was  one  of  the  noblest  as  well 
as  most  genial  of  men,"  he  said  as  his  head  fell  upon  his 
bosom.  "  For  so  many  years  I  have  been  shut  up  to  hard 
study  and  intense  moral  purpose,  and  how  I  relished,  by  way 
of  variety,  a  man  who  seemed  to  take  the  world  indolent- 
ly. So  splendid  a  specimen  of  flesh  and  blood  was  a  relief  to 
me  after  exclusive  devotion  to  intellect  and  soul.  I  enjoyed 
such  a  vigorous  instance  of  the  present,  after  going  back  so 
unceasingly  to  the  apostles,  or  forward  to  the  Judgment 
Day.  The  persons  and  things  I  have  studied  about  so  long, 
glimmered  like  unreal  ghosts  in  comparison  with  such  a  man. 
He  seemed  as  generous  as  he  was  rich,  so  genial  and  chiv- 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

alrous  too,  and  in  such  easy  reach :  it  required  no  exertion 
to  believe  in  him.  And  now?  " 

He  recalled  the  stupor  of  his  host  during  the  first  night 
of  the  storm  at  sea,  nor  did  he  admire  as  much  as  before 
the  glowing  cordiality  of  the  general's  face :  a  ruddy  hue 
may  have  other  sources,  he  thought,  than  the  heart,  and  pur- 
ple is  not  always  the  emblem  of  a  king. 

He  remembered  times  at  table  when  the  general  and  his 
daughters  seemed  not  as  much  inclined  to  talk  as  usual ; 
but  he  remembered  that  when  Miss  Irene  was  less  brilliant 
than  common,  her  sister  had  taken  more  part  in  conversa- 
tion ;  a  weight  in  what  she  said  from  her  position,  as  really 
the  mistress  of  the  house,  at  the  end  of  the  table,  which  had 
made  him  eager  for  more  acquaintance  with  her  than  had 
seemed  possible,  she  was  generally  so  busy. 

"  I  thought  that  poor  idiot  was  beautiful,"  he  said  as  he 
rode  along ;  "  and  she  has  beauty,  but  no  mind.  And  I  ad- 
mired Miss  Irene  for  her  talking,  her  singing,  her  laughter, 
her  accomplishments,  her  audacity ;  but  I  wonder  how  much 
heart  she  has."  For  he  had  begun  to  be  surprised  that  Miss 
Irene  should  find  so  much  pleasure  in  the  company  of  Mr. 
Fanthorp.  That  gentleman,  having  of  late  taken  the  gen- 
eral's plantation  in  hand,  was,  on  that  account,  very  often  at 
the  house.  He  talked  business  with  Gen.  Buttolph,  smok- 
ing with  him  upon  the  veranda,  of  an  evening;  but  he 
always  came  into  the  parlor  before  he  left,  and  his  coming 
was  the  signal  for  an  hour  or  two  of  mirth  with  whoever  was 
there,  usually  Miss  Irene.  "I  like  fun  as  much  as  any- 
body," Mr.  Venable  continued  his  meditations;  "and  he  is 
a  perfect  mimic,  and  the  most  amusing  of  men.  Yet  I 
wonder  Miss  Irene  doesn't  get  tired  of  it ;  but  she  does  not. 
I  can  hear  her  laughter  after  I  have  gone  to  bed."  The 
beach  was  the  only  drive  —  and  there  is  not  a  finer  in  the 
world  —  of  St.  Jerome  ;  and  many  persons  were  out  upon  it 
that  afternoon,  for  the  norther  had  been  the  expiring  breath 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  1/3 

of  winter,  and  the  weather  was  like  that  of  summer.  As  he 
rode  homeward  he  lifted  his  hat  to  more  than  one  party 
meeting  him  on  horseback  and  in  carriages.  Suddenly  he 
saw  Col.  Roland  driving  toward  him  in  an  open  buggy  with 
a  pair  of  blooded  horses,  Gov.  Magruder  seated  beside  him. 
They  were  so  absorbed,  the  colonel  talking,  the  other  listen- 
ing, that  they  hardly  looked  at  him  in  passing.  By  this 
time  he  had  learned  enough  to  explain  and  confirm  what  he 
had  unintentionally  overheard  the  night  he  stood  at  Gen. 
Buttolph's  gate. 

"  And  here  Is  this  Roland,"  Mr.  Venable  said  to  himself 
bitterly,  "as  polished  a  gentleman  as  one  cares  to  see,  a 
genuine  poet  too ;  and,  under  it  all,  a  scheming  politician. 
He  is  paying  his  court  to  Miss  Irene,  and  he  does  it  amaz- 
ingly well.  How  jealous  he  is  of  Mr.  Fan  thorp  !  I  wonder 
if  any  woman  can  love  a  man  whom  she  hears  so  unmerci- 
fully ridiculed  and  mimicked  as  he  is  by  the  other.  But," 
Mr.  Venable  announced  to  himself,  "  I,  for  one,  will  not  inter- 
fere. Whichever  of  the  two  wins  her,  can  have  her,  so  far 
as  I  am  concerned.  But  Gov.  Magruder  "  — 

A  fierce  jealousy  of  that  dignitary  arose  on  the  instant  in 
his  bosom. 

"They  barely  condescended,"  he  said,  "to  see  me  in 
passing.  The  colonel  is  tutoring  him,  I  dare  say,  for  his  visit 
to  Miss  Zeo  to-night ;  and  what  am  7  to  them  ?  to  them  ? 
What  am  I  to  Gen.  Buttolph  ?  to  Farce  Fanthorp  ?  Good 
heavens  !  what  am  I  in  any  practical  sense  to  anybody? 
And  how  can  I  be  any  thing  that  is  strong  and  manly  to 
her  ?  It  is  disreputable  here  in  the  South  not  to  go  to  some 
church ;  and  so  they  come  and  hear  me  when  the  weather 
suits.  Look  here  !  "  and  he  turned  upon  himself  after  the 
example  of  old  Plenty,  "  you  simple  soul,  what  change  does 
your  poetizing  in  the  pulpit  work  in  these  men,  in  anybody? 
I  am  nothing  to  them  at  last,  but  a  younger  sort  of  Father 
Fethero." 


A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

As  the  two  gentlemen  drove  rapidly  by,  it  had  not  been 
at  the  colonel,  but  at  his  companion  sitting  erect,  handsome, 
attentive,  beside  him,  that  Mr.  Venable  had  glanced.  The 
governor  was  so  rich,  had  such  a  position,  such  brilliant 
prospects,  was  so  widely  popular,  was,  above  all,  so  certain 
to  win  Miss  Zeo,  that,  as  by  an  instinct  of  nature,  it  was  a 
hungry  glance  he  cast  at  him. 

"  Small  wonder,"  he  endeavored  to  console  himself,  "  that 
he  should  seize  so  cordially  upon  every  one,  should  listen  so 
eagerly  to  everybody.  It  is  the  natural  craving  of  empti- 
ness ;  but  of  an  emptiness  which  no  more  retains  than  it 
returns  any  thing.  Every  thing  he  owns  was  bequeathed 
him ;  and,  apart  from  his  father  and  Col.  Roland,  what  is 
he  ?  "  But  he  envied  him  none  the  less,  nor  was  it  the  first 
time  substance  has  envied  shadow,  and  influence  affluence ; 
and  yet  even  then  the  magnetism  of  the  other  had  not 
changed  from  attraction  to  repulsion  :  for  his  life,  Mr.  Ven- 
able could  not  help  liking  the  man.  The  repulsion  was 
from  himself  instead,  and  somewhat  as,  when  a  man  is  dying, 
the  soul  repels  from  itself  the  dead  body. 

"  As  Heaven  helps  me,"  he  said,  "  I  will  see  if  I  cannot 
make  myself  felt ! "  and,  spurring  past  Gen.  Buttolph's 
house,  he  continued  down  the  beach.  Young  Plenty  had 
waited  long  and  anxiously  for  him,  when  late  that  night  he 
returned,  and  gave  his  horse  up  to  him  at  the  general's  gate. 


A   YEAR  WORTH   LIVING. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

HAVING   REFERENCE  TO  A  VARIETY  OF  PERSONS  AND   OF  THINGS. 

YOU  must  allow  me,  sir,"  Gen.  Buttolph  said  to  Mr. 
Venable  one  evening  a  few  weeks  after  this,  as.  he  and 
his  daughter  Irene  accompanied  him  home  from  prayer- 
meeting,  "  to  congratulate  you  upon  the  vigor  with  which  you 
have  gone  to  work  of  late.  Your  sermons  are  exceedingly 
practical  and  excellent.  I  hope  you  will  spare  no  one.  I  am 
glad,  too,  that  you  have  established  the  Bethel  for  seamen, 
and  that  you  have  enlisted  Zeo  in  your  efforts  for  the  poor 
and  neglected  children  of  our  city.  You  are  doing  a  good 
work,  sir,  a  great  work,  sir  !  Do  not  overtask  yourself.  If 
you  need  money  call  on  me,  call  on  me." 

"  You  know  I  rarely  go  to  prayer-meeting :  I'm  afraid  of 
that  ridiculous  Mr.  Quatty,"  Irene  Buttolph  said  to  Mr. 
Venable,  as  they  seated  themselves  in  the  parlor  after  they 
had  got  home ;  "  but  I'm  glad  I  went.  It  was  admirable  ! 
Where  you  described  the  old  apostle  in  his  prison  at  Rome, 
after  so  many  years  of  hard  work,  —  forsaken  by  Demas,  — 
soon  to  be  killed,  it  was  grand  !  I  could  have  cried ;  but 
I  was  expecting  Phil  Quatty  to  pop  up  every  moment. 
Besides,  just  as  I  was  about  to  cry  I  saw  Mrs.  Chaffingsby. 
Did  you  notice  her,  Mr.  Venable?  While  the  tears  were 
running  down  her  odd  little  face,  she  was  looking  up  and 
about  the  ceiling  and  the  walls,  as  if  she  were  taking  their 
measure  for  something.  But  I  am  in  good  earnest,"  the 


1/6  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

young  lady  added  as  seriously  as  possible,  "  it  was  excellent ! 
—  your  remarks,  I  mean."  For,  after  a  period  of  coldness 
amounting  at  times  almost  to  rudeness  toward  her  guest,  the 
young  lady  had  re-acted  into  a  measure  of  unusual  friendli- 
ness of  late. 

"  It  was  most  excellent,"  Gen.  Buttolph  added,  taking, 
as  he  said  it,  a  key  from  his  vest-pocket,  "  very  good  indeed. 
I  have  always  admired  the  devotion  of  that  man  to  his  Mas- 
ter. Paul  was  a  large  man,  I  am  sure.  Peter,  I  feel  certain, 
was  a  little  fellow,  a  whipper-snapper  sort  of  a  person. 
Your  remarks  were  good,  very  good  indeed ; "  and  the  gen- 
eral had  arisen  as  he  spoke,  and  was  rubbing  his  upper  lip 
with  the  key,  twisting  it  around  with  his  forefinger  through 
the  loop  thereof,  passing  it  from  hand  to  hand.  His  younger 
daughter  said  nothing.  Her  head  was  drooped  as  she  sat ; 
but  her  eyes  and  her  mind  were  upon  her  father  at  the 
moment,  rather  than  upon  Paul  or  Peter. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  their  pastor :  "  that  is  one  reason  why 
I  am  glad,  general,  to  accept  your  invitation,  and  spend  a 
few  days  with  you  at  your  plantation.  I  want  to  have  Father 
Fethero  preach  for  me  while  I'm  away." 

"  Father  Fethero  !  "  exclaimed  Irene.  "What,  that  hor- 
rid old  man  ?  Why,  Mr.  Venable  !  The  idea  !  Please  don't. 
Commodore  Grandheur  would  have  to  be  carried  home  from 
church  on  a  shutter.  It  would  make  even  Mr.  Nogens  say 
something." 

"  I  consulted  the  commodore,"  Mr.  Venable  replied ; 
"and,  although  he  was  surprised  at  first,  he  cordially  con- 
sented. He  has  been  exceedingly  pleasant  in  his  intercourse 
with  me  of  late.  Mr.  Nogens  also  :  I  asked  him." 

"  The  idea ! "  Irene  persisted,  her  hands  in  the  air. 
"  I  can  imagine  that  poor  old  soul  rising  in  our  pulpit,  with 
his  red  and  white  hair,  his  bronzy  face,  his  blue  spectacles, 
his  dingy  white  cravat,  his  shabby  old —  What  did  Mr. 
Nogens  say?" 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"He  said  yes,"  Mr.  Venable  answered,  with  a  smile. 
"And  I  am  glad,"  he  added  gravely  and  warmly,  "that  I 
can  show  Father  Fethero  this  mark  of  respect.  •  We  were 
speaking  of  Paul,"  he  continued ;  "  and  here  is  a  man  who 
has  worked  just  as  hard,  as  long,  and  as  single-heartedly  too, 
as  Paul,  and  for  the  same  Master.  He  is  old  and  poor. 
I  am  afraid  he  has  fewer  friends  even  than  the  apostle. 
With  all  my  soul  I  honor  him,  respect  him,  love  him,  think 
myself  unworthy  to  preach  while  he  sits  there  so  humbly 
Sunday  after  Sunday."  As  he  said  it  he  was  aware  that  the 
other  sister  had  lifted  her  head,  and  was  looking  at  him 
with  a  new  interest  in  her  eyes,  —  a  look  which  thrilled  him 
with  pleasure. 

"  You  are  right,  perfectly  right,  entirely  right,"  Gen.  But- 
tolph  added,  walking  about  the  room  in  a  somewhat  purpose- 
less way,  playing  nervously  with  the  key  in  his  hand.  "  I 
honor  you  ;  I  mean,  I  honor  him  :  that  is,  I  honor  you  both. 
Isn't  it  rather  late?  We  must  not  allow  you  to  overtalk 
yourself,  Mr.  Venable  ;  and,  young  ladies,  it  is  time  you  were 
in  bed.  I  prefer  Paul  to  Peter,  myself;  "  and,  like  his  daugh- 
ter Zeo  in  that,  the  mind  of  the  general  seemed  to  be  in 
the  key  which  he  was  passing  eagerly  from  hand  to  hand. 
Had  it  been  the  costliest  of  jewels,  the  heart  of  the  poor 
girl,  from  under  her  eyelids  drooped  again,  could  not  have 
been  fastened  more  eagerly  upon  it.  No  wonder  !  The 
young  people  were  hardly  out  of  the  room,  before  the  key 
was  rattling  in  his  eagerness  against  the  keyhole  of  his 
sideboard  in  the  dining-room  adjoining.  More  like  a  tiger 
upon  its  prey  than  a  human  being,  the  general  seized  upon 
the  heavy  decanter  of  cut  glass,  did  not  take  time  for  a 
goblet  in  his  terrible  thirst,  placed  the  vessel  to  his  greedy 
lips,  and  drank  and  drank,  as  if  it  were  life  and  not  death 
which  he  was  drinking.  And  while  he  drank,  Zeo,  in  her 
own  room,  with  rapid  hands  had  hastily  changed  her  dress 
for  the  night.  Then  she  knelt  beside  her  bed  in  prayer. 


1/8  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

It  was  more  than  the  woman  grasping  the  mantle  of  Christ ; 
for  she  was  entreating  for  another,  not  herself,  and  for  that 
other  under  the  curse  of  a  malady  the  most  hopeless  of  all. 
As  she  prayed,  she  sank  down  from  beside  the  bed,  and 
lay  at  last,  with  dishevelled  hair,  upon  the  floor.  The 
woman  of  Syrophenicia  did  not  call  to  Christ  so  importu- 
nately ;  for  this  was  no  child  for  whom  she  prayed,  but  a 
grown  man,  diseased  and  dying.  Nor  could  any  Mary  of 
them  all  have  held  so  firmly  to  the  feet  of  Jesus,  since  this 
woman  knew,  unlike  them,  that  he  had  not  merely  risen 
from  the  dead,  but  had  also  ascended  to  heaven,  —  was  not 
a  man  merely,  but  likewise  the  Son  of  God.  She  had  not 
been  to  prayer-meeting  that  night,  occupied  in  some  way 
with  her  brother  at  home ;  but  ah,  how  she  clung  to  God  in 
prayer  now  !  Thoughts  of  her  mother,  in  white,  and  singing 
among  the  saints,  were  in  her  mind ;  but  that  mother  could 
not  have  sung  to  Christ  there  with  such  earnestness  as  this 
daughter,  in  her  night-clothing,  besought  him.  There  was 
the  difference,  however,  of  utter  weariness  at  length ;  and  she 
arose,  and  went  into  her  sister's  room.  Irene  was  already 
asleep.  Zeo  shrank  from  disturbing  her,  sleeping  so  sweetly, 
her  cheek  in  her  hand.  She  stooped  over  her,  and  kissed 
her.  Her  tears  —  she  did  not  intend  it  —  dropped  upon  her 
sister's  face.  In  a  moment  Irene  was  sitting  up  in  bed, 
alarmed,  enraged,  then  weeping  hysterically. 

"O  Zeo  !  why  won't  you  let  me  alone?  "  she  said.  "If 
you  must  kill  yourself,  do  let  me  live  !  I  know ;  but  what 
can  I  do  ?  what  can  you  do  ?  It's  night  after  night,  night 
after  night !  We've  begged  and  implored  him.  I'm  des- 
perate. Go  to  bed." 

"  Irene,  sister,"  Zeo  began. 

"  You  are  losing  your  senses  !  "  Irene  continued,  her 
eyes  suddenly  becoming  dry.  "  I  tell  you  I  cannot  en- 
dure it.  Zeo,"  she  added  fiercely,  "  I'm  driven  to  despera- 
tion. The  next  time  Col.  Roland  asks  me,  I'll  say  yes. 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

There  is  Mr.  Fanthorp,  too.  He  is  full  of  his  nonsense ; 
but  he  is  a  splendid  business  man.  See  how  he  is  mana- 
ging papa's  plantation.  You  said  so  yourself;  "  and,  with  a 
singular  change  in  her  passion,  the  girl  laughed  as  hysteri- 
cally as  she  had  wept  before.  "  Take  the  governor,  Zeo : 
take  him,  —  take  him,  and  be  done  with  it;  and  let  us 
get  away  from  papa.  Nonsense  !  "  she  said,  as  her  sister 
blushed,  "  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  about :  he  is  no 
worse  than  men  generally.  Col.  Roland  has  only  asked  me 
eleven  times ;  and  I'll  take  him  at  the  dozenth.  If  you 
will  talk  !  "  she  added. 

"  Reny,  dear,"  her  sister  said,  rising  from  the  bed  on 
which  she  had  seated  herself,  "  I  felt  so  desolate,  that  was 
all.  We  can  do  nothing.  Perhaps  God  can.  Won't  you 
pray  to  him  too?  " 

"  Zeo,  you  are  a  goose,"  the  other  replied,  settling  her- 
self comfortably  in  bed :  "  you  have  lost  your  wits.  The 
Nautilus  spoiled  you.  You  think  it  was  your  prayers,  that 
trip,  which  kept  the  old  boat  from  sinking.  I  wish  it  had 
sunk,  with  all  my  heart.  I  don't  want  to  live.  What  can 
we  do  ?  Go  to  bed,  and  go  to  sleep.  I'm  too  sleepy  even 
to  cry." 

It  was  an  hour  after  that,  and  Zeo  was  seated  by  her 
father,  lying  as  usual  on  the  sofa  in  the  dining-room.  The 
decanter  lay  broken  upon  the  floor,  her  father  snoring  heavily 
in  his  drunken  sleep.  Zeo  had  loosened  his  neckcloth,  and 
propped  up  the  heavy  head,  as  usual;  and  there  she  sat 
stupid  with  grief  and  weariness.  The  air  was  foul  with  the 
debauchery,  so  to  speak,  of  the  smell  of  liquor ;  it  enclosed 
the  girl  as  in  its  immorality,  and  she  shuddered  and  shrank. 
At  last  she  started,  as  the  door  slowly  opened.  It  was  Grit, 
his  clothes  only  half  on,  his  shoes  in  his  hand,  his  hair,  and 
his  face  as  well,  telling  of  the  sleep  from  which  he  had  just 
arisen. 

"  I  was  dead  asleep,"  he  said,  "  but  you  and  sister  talking 


ISO  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

wakened  me  up.  I  tried  to  go  to  sleep,  but  I  can't.  I 
thought  I'd  steal  down  and  stay  with  you."  He  said  it  in 
a  common  and  even  coarse  way.  Sentiment  may  be  found 
in  the  bosoms  of  boys  of  a  lighter  build  ;  but  Grit  possessed 
no  article  of  the  kind.  He  was  a  bad  boy,  in  virtue  of  a 
stronger  will  worse  than  even  the  negroes  ;  and  not  one  of 
these  knew  him  better  than  did,  by  this  time,  the  pure 
young  girl  by  whom  he  stood. 

"  Grit,"  she  said  at  last,  putting  her  arms  around  his  waist 
as  he  fastened  up  his  suspenders,  "  I  never  intend  to  call 
you  Grit,  again,  as  long  as  I  live.  You  are  my  brother  Theo- 
dore ;  and  you  are  all  I  have  to  lean  on  in  this  world. 
Grit,"  very  wearily  indeed,  "  do  you  believe  in  God?  " 

"  I  don't  know  nothing  about  God,"  he  said,  as  he  but- 
toned up  his  vest.  "  What  do  you  girls  suppose  a  fellow 
thinks  about  such  stuff?  But  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Zeo,"  he 
added,  pushing  her  off  a  little,  the  better  to  complete  his 
toilet,  "  tell  you  what  it  is,  Zeo,  I  believe  in  you.  And," 
he  continued,  "  I  am  getting  to  believe  in  Mr.  Venable. 
You  know  he  never  goes  riding  these  days,  nor  fishing,  but 
he  wants  me  to  go  along.  We  race  when  we  get  out  of 
sight,  Zeo ;  and  you  bet  I  beat  him  !  and  he  talks  to  me, 
tells  me  stories  he  has  read  somewhere ;  the  best  fellow  I 
know.  I  told  you  how  he  has  me  up  in  his  room,  and  shows 
me  every  book  he  has  that's  got  pictures  in  it,  —  hang  them 
that  haven't !  He  plays  checkers  with  me,  and  says  he'll 
teach  me  chess.  I  like  him.  I  say,  look  here  !  is  there 
any  cake  handy  anywhere? " 

The  two  must  have  been  up  late  that  night.  The  gener- 
al, however,  was  looking  about  as  well  as  usual  the  next 
morning,  at  breakfast. 

"I wish,  general,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  in  his  ignorance, 
although  not  without  his  fears,  as  he  rose  from  the  table, 
"  that  I  had  your  splendid  constitution,  you  look  so  ruddy 
and  strong.  But  I'm  afraid  Miss  Zeo  does  not  sleep  well. 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  l8l 

—  You  must  have  been  dreaming  of  your  many  conquests, 
Miss  Zeo.  Commodore  Grandheur  admires  you  exceedingly. 
Mr.  Parsons,  too,  told  me  last  night  after  prayer-meeting, 
that  you  were  the  only  sensible  person  in  his  machine  the 
day  we  took  that  ride." 

"And  what  about  Old  Ugly?"  Irene  asked  slyly. 
"  Don't  blush  so,  Zeo.  If  the  governor  is  successful,  they 
need  not  call  you  Old  Mrs.  Ugly,  you  know." 

"  I  fear,"  added  Mr.  Venable,  eager  to  change  the  sub- 
ject, "that  Mr.  Parsons  thinks  so  highly  of  you  because, 
unobserved  of  all  of  us,  perhaps,  you  ate  as  heartily  as  Grit 
here,  at  the  banquet  Mr.  Parsons  gave  us.  By  the  by,  he 
insists  on  our  taking  another  ride  when  he  has  made  some 
alteration  in  his  invention.  The  next  time  it  shall  be,  he 
says,  by  day.  There  must  be  something  wonderful  in  it. 
He  said  we  made  twenty  miles  an  hour.  Miss  Zeo,  could  I 
see  you  one  moment?"  he  added. 

"Secrets  from  me?"  Irene  called  out  after  them,  as  they 
left  the  table.  She  was  in  radiant  spirits,  laughing  and 
talking  about  their  visit  to  the  plantation,  the  magnolia- 
trees,  the  negroes,  and  the  mocking-birds,  from  the  moment 
blessing  had  been  asked. 

"I  wanted  to  ask  you" — the  gentleman  and  lady  said 
it  in  the  same  breath,  each  holding  out  to  the  other  a  little 
roll  of  money  as  they  entered  the  hall,  closing  the  breakfast- 
room  door  behind  them. 

"  What  7  wished,"  the  gentleman  said,  laughing,  "  was  to 
beg  you  to  take  this  money,  and  be  so  good  as  to  get  it,  in 
some  way,  to  Father  Fethero's  daughter." 

"  He  does  need  a  new  suit  badly.  It  was  the  very  thing 
I  was  going  to  ask  you  to  do.  But,  thank  you,  I  will,"  Zeo 
added.  "  I  had  already  talked  with  Miss  Aurelia  —  she 
had  spoken  with  me,  I  mean  —  about  it.  Thank  you,  I  will 
attend  to  it  to-day." 

"  I  wonder  what  I  have  done,"  Mr.  Venable  said  ruefully, 


1 82  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

as  he  gave  her  the  money  and  took  his  hat  from  the  rack : 
"Miss  Aurelia  is  very  cold  toward  me  of  late.  I  would 
gladly  apologize  and  correct  it,  if  I  knew.  Can't  you  find 
out,  Miss  Zeo  ?  " 

"  I'll  try  :  good-morning,"  and  Zeo  closed  the  door  after 
him  with  a  smile.  But  why  is  it  —  oh,  why? — that,  in  the 
small  affairs  of  life,  a  woman  is  sure  to  know  all  about  a  thing 
when  one  of  our  pre-eminently  superior  sex,  standing  as 
near  the  thing,  whatever  it  is,  as  she,  remains  as  ignorant  as 
a  fool?  It  is  not  proper  that  a  man,  compared  to  any 
woman,  should  seem  like  a  donkey  in  contrast  with  an  angel. 
The  man  may  not  know  he  is  an  ass,  but  the  woman  does ; 
and  it  makes  her  conceited,  —  spoils  her  for  the  service  of 
man. 

In  the  climate  of  which  we  are  speaking,  twilight  is  a  thing 
unknown ;  it  is  either  day,  or  it  is  night.  So  of  the  seasons 
of  the  year.  Winter  had  gone  as  with  a  bound,  and  summer 
had  corne  without  any  transition  of  spring,  as  Mr.  Venable 
walked,  that  day,  rapidly  along  toward  Father  Fethero's 
humble  home.  Looking  around,  and  observing  no  one  in 
sight,  he  whistled  as  he  trod  the  green  grass,  looked  upon 
the  blue  sea,  saw  how  rapidly  the  leaves  were  unfurling  their 
flags  upon  china-tree  and  oleander.  Driving  unpleasant 
thoughts  from  his  mind  as  by  main  force,  he  endeavored  to 
encourage  himself,  instead,  as  he  went.  There  was,  for  in- 
stance, a  deepening  gravity  in  the  manner  of  his  host,  which 
he  liked.  The  general  was  plainly  becoming,  under  his  min- 
istrations, whatever  old  Plenty  had  said,  more  thoughtful.  If 
he  were  only  prepared  to  speak  in  prayer-meeting,  he  would 
be  such  an  additional  bulwark  against  Mr.  Quatty,  to  say 
nothing  else.  Mr.  Venable  resolved  to  urge  his  duty  upon 
him  at  the  earliest  opportunity. 

The  visitor  lightened  up  Father  Fethero's  house  im- 
mensely that  morning.  It  was  a  poor  place,  scantily  fur- 
nished. The  half-dozen  grandchildren  did  not  seem,  some- 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  183 

how,  as  happy  as  children  should  be,  when  the  visitor  went 
into  the  little  garden  in  which  their  grandfather  was  busily  at 
work  with  them.  At  sight  of  him,  the  little  ones  huddled 
together,  as  is  the  way  with  things  that  are  feeble  and  fright- 
ened. The  faces  of  all  were  timid,  and  yet  too  hard  for 
children.  Care  and  poverty  had  grimed  itself  into  the  grain 
of  their  skins,  the  glance  of  their  eyes ;  there  was  that  which 
was  lank  and  hopeless  in  their  very  hair ;  and  their  grand- 
father was  very  rusty  indeed.  The  straw  hat  on  his  head,  as 
well  as  the  foxy  black  suit  he  wore,  should  have  been  retired 
into  the  seclusion  of  the  ash-barrel  or  the  paper-mill  years 
before. 

"I  don't  know,  —  I  do  not  know,"  Father  Fethero  said, 
when  his  young  brother  had  told  of  his  intended  absence, 
and  begged  him  to  supply  his  pulpit.  It  was  not  so  much 
that  the  old  man  was  slowly  thinking  over  the  pile  of  yellow 
sermons  in  the  hair  trunk  up-stairs,  trying  to  recall  any  that 
would  do  ;  nor  that  afterward,  as  he  leaned  upon  his  spade, 
he  went  deliberately  over,  in  his  mind,  his  best  suit  as  when 
he  had  examined  it  last  Sunday  morning.  He  could  not 
recall  the  suitable  sermon  on  the  instant ;  and  he  remembered 
that  the  seams  up  the  elbows  of  his  coat  were,  even  to  his 
dimmed  eyes,  really  —  really —  For  years  now,  and  to 
every  proposition,  he  had  always  said  at  first,  "I  don't 
know,  —  I  do  not  know."  But  then  the  other  part  of  his 
ritual  came  in ;  and  after  a  half-hour  of  talk,  he  said,  "  Well, 
brother,  if  it  is  so,  I  will  stand  in  the  gap.  Yes,  stand  in  the 
gap.  I  will  stand  in  the  gap."  That  matter  being  disposed 
of,  the  two  leaned  against  the  palings,  —  Mr.  Venable  having 
too  much  sense  to  go  into  the  house  at  that  hour  of  the 
morning,  —  and  refreshed  themselves  with  a  little  tough  the- 
ology. And  then  Mr.  Venable  spoke  with  eagerness  in  re- 
gard to  the  new  work  upon  which  he  had  lately  entered,  and 
of  his  joyous  hopes  of  success.  But  Father  Fethero,  though 
much  brightened  up  by  the  visit,  and  the  liberal  compensa- 


184  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

tion  he  was  to  receive,  could  not  in  conscience  agree  with 
the  other. 

"  It  may  be  so,  may  be  so.  Young  men  are  hopeful,"  he 
said  at  length  ;  "but,"  with  his  sorrowful  spectacles  fastened 
upon  the  sea  beyond,  "  I  plainly  perceive  a  gloom,  brother 
Venable.  The  god  of  this  world,  the  power  which  now 
worketh  in  the  children  "  — 

"  Is  not  half  as  strong  as  our  God,"  the  younger  man 
interrupted  heartily,  but  respectfully  too.  "  Pardon  me, 
Father  Fethero,  but  I  have  a  sermon  to  write.  I  wish  you 
would  lend  me  one  of  yours." 

Mr.  Venable  said  it  as  he  laughed  and  walked  off.  He 
tried  to  get  up  his  whistling  again,  but  that  which  haunted 
him  day  and  night  would  not  be  whistled  off  when  he  tried 
that  once  more. 

"  O  God  ! "  the  man  said  to  himself,  with  sudden  vio- 
lence, "  what  does  he  or  I  understand  of  theology  or  religion  ? 
What  do  we  know,  poor  fools,  about  God  ?  Hers  was  such 
a  beautiful  face  !  So  pure  !  Such  perfect  grace  and  charm  ! 
Surely  the  angels  have  not  eyes  deeper  or  more  lovely  ! 
And  is  music  so  sweet  as  her  voice  ?  I  can  never  see  such 
another.  It  is  impossible  for  such  an  ideal  to  be  seen 
twice.  An  idiot?  What  can  God  mean  by  such  a  deed?" 
And  he  laid  his  hand  upon  his  mouth  to  crush  back  the 
blasphemies  which  arose  in  his  heart.  But  summer,  to  him, 
had  vanished  as  he  strode  along.  All  that  he  could  do  was 
to  hurl  himself  into  his  next  sermon.  It  should  be  on  the 
mysterious  doings  of  God.  He  would  try  to  convince 
others,  perhaps  he  might  convince  himself.  Yet,  strange  to 
say,  he  had  no  sooner  settled  on  a  text  than,  as  he  walked 
away,  Zeo  Buttolph,  in  most  illogical  fashion,  constituted  all 
the  consecutive  heads  thereof;  and  the  application  was,  that 
in  some  way,  some  divine  way,  Providence  would  vindicate 
itself  in  regard  to  Clara  Chaffingsby  in  the  end,  especially  in 
regard  to  Zeo  and  himself. 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  185 

In  due  time  Father  Fethero  received,  in  a  delicately- 
worded  note  from  anonymous  ladies,  a  good  deal  more  than 
enough  to  get  a  superfine  suit.  It  was  handed  respectfully 
to  him  over  the  fence,  as  he  worked,  by  a  negro  whom  he 
did  not  know,  although  the  man,  taking  off  his  hat  as  he  did 
so,  —  it  was  young  Plenty,  in  fact,  —  evidently  knew  him. 
As  Mr.  Venable  constantly  said  to  himself,  this  negro  resem- 
bled a  statesman,  if  only  in  his  gravity  and  silence ;  and  a 
statesman  could  not  have  presented  his  credentials  as  ambas- 
sador to  a  king  with  more  dignity.  The  note  was  weightier 
than  is  generally  the  case  with  communications  bearing  the 
spidery  handwriting  in  which  it  was  addressed.  The  old 
man  read  it  doubtfully  through  his  blue  spectacles;  but 
somehow  they  grew  dim,  and  he  tried  to  read  it  without  his 
glasses.  Adjusting  his  spectacles  again,  he  studied  the  writ- 
ing, and  then  the  coins  of  gold,  as  if  the  one  had  been 
a  passage  from  his  neglected  Hebrew  Bible,  and  the  other 
specimens  of  the  mintage  of  King  David. 

"  No,  my  dear  Jane,"  he  said  at  last,  after  days  of  con- 
sultation with  his  widowed  and  sad-visaged  daughter,  "  I 
will  do  as  I  said  at  first.  The  children  must  have  shoes  and 
many  other  things.  Your  dress  is  not  suitable  for  a  minis- 
ter's daughter.  No  one  would  ever  notice  the  pants.  I 
will  compromise,  to  please  you,  on  the  vest,  if  you  select  a 
cheap  one.  But  a  coat  will  do.  I  would  prefer,  in  any 
case,  to  get  into  the  pulpit  before  the  mass  of  the  congrega- 
tion arrive.  And  I  never  like  to  go  down  from  the  pulpit 
until  they  are  pretty  much  all  gone.  I  have  heard  things 
which  have  hurt  me  when,  after  preaching,  I  have  mingled 
with  a  retiring  congregation.  Their  backs  were  toward  me 
as  they  went.  The  pants  are  not  at  all  needed.  All  that 
will  be  seen  of  me  over  the  pulpit  cushions  will  be  the  coat. 
No,  Jane,  no.  But  you  may  get  me  a  new  cravat.  One 
will  do.  Can  you  recall,  Jane,  any  one  of  my  sermons 
which  you  would  prefer  I  should  preach  ?  The  people  of 


1 86  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

the  First  Church  are  critical  to  a  sinful  degree.  Please 
keep  the  children  as  quiet  as  you  can  to-day.  I  may  have 
to  re-write  my  sermon.  —  Run  out  and  play,  little  ones  :  sum- 
mer has  come."  So  saying,  he  went  to  his  little  room  up- 
stairs, and,  placing  an  old  Bible  upon  the  one  hide-bottomed 
chair  in  the  room,  he  knelt  down  upon  a  little  spot  already 
worn  white  in  the  rag  carpet  thereby,  intending  to  engage  in 
prayer  in  a  certain  set  order  of  invocation,  adoration,  thanks- 
giving, confession,  supplication.  But  his  course  was  at  last  as 
illogical  as  that  of  his  visitor;  for,  laying  his  old  cheek 
upon  the  book,  he  could  only  weep.  He  was  merely  a 
homely  old  man,  and  very  poor :  yet  who  will  undertake  to 
swear  that  the  prophets  and  apostles  were  always  as  grand  of 
aspect  as  painters  and  sculptors  would  have  us  believe  ? 


A   YEAR  WORTH   LIVING.  l8/ 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IN  WHICH  WE  DESCEND   INTO  THE   CHEMISTRY  OF   ELOQUENCE, 
AND   LEARN   HOW  AN  ORATION   IS  PREPARED. 

A  MORE  sincere  and  every  way  excellent  man  than  Mr. 
Phip  Quatty  never  lived,  nor  a  more  thoroughly  un- 
educated one ;  and  a  more  sensible  man  you  never  knew. 
In  the  dialect  of  St.  Jerome,  "  If  ever  a  man  had  what  you 
may  call  good,  strong,  hard  horse-sense,  Quatty's  your  man." 
As  all  admitted,  however,  there  was  that  fatal  exception  which 
was  always  stated  in  making  out  this  verdict :  the  individual 
in  question  "  would  speak."  As  has  been  already  remarked, 
there  were  many  excellent  private  members  in  that,  as  there 
are  in  every  church,  whose  remarks  at  prayer-meetings  met 
with  the  cordial  approval  of  all;  but  Mr.  Quatty  was  an 
oddity,  a  wholly  exceptional  case.  Mr.  Venable  begged 
him  in  private,  and  almost  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  —  for  it  was 
a  very  serious  matter  indeed,  —  not  to  make  remarks,  yet 
entreated  him  in  vain.  Mr.  Ezra  Micajah  Parsons  had  pat- 
ented a  variety  of  railway-brakes  among  other  things ;  but 
he  failed  ignominiously  in  devising  any  mode  of  stopping 
Mr.  Quatty,  and  never  had  Mr.  Parsons  given  his  mind  more 
vigorously  to  any  thing.  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  became  herself 
a  picture  of  disgust  in  the  framing  of  her  pew  "  at  meet- 
ing," whenever  Mr.  Quatty  arose  to  speak.  Mr.  Parsons  and 
herself,  as  members  of  the  same  church  with  the  offender, 
had  a  strong  aversion  to  his  peculiarity.  Commodore  Grand- 


1 88  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

heur  had  an  alarming  way  of  growing  purple  as  to  his  face 
when  angry,  and  bristling  as  to  his  heavy  white  moustache, 
and  demonstrative  as  to  his  still  heavier  gold-headed  cane.  It 
was  not  every  one  who  dared  face  the  commodore  when  the 
veins  about  his  bald  head  became  blue  and  swollen.  After 
every  attempt  of  Mr.  Phip  Quatty  to  "  make  a  few  remarks  " 
at  any  church-meeting,  the  commodore  would  roll  down,  so  to 
speak,  upon  the  culprit  in  a  thunder-storm  even  more  terri- 
ble than  the  one  before ;  and  yet  what  good  or  evil  did  his 
almost  apoplectic  expostulations  do?  Not  a  bit.  To  Mr. 
Quatty,  at  least  when  the  next  opportunity  to  speak  was 
come,  the  vehement  denunciations  were  no  more  than  the 
puffs  of  smoke  from  the  cigar  of  the  last  passer-by.  Mr. 
Quatty  would  speak. 

It  was  very  remarkable.  Every  Wednesday  night  he  went 
from  the  livery-stable  of  which  he  was  the  energetic  owner, 
to  prayer-meeting,  as  fully  resolved  as  any  man  could  be, 
that  he  would  not  say  a  word.  Alas  !  the  lights;  the  singing, 
the  prayers,  the  reading  by  the  pastor  of  some  specially 
striking  scripture,  most  of  all,  the  exhortations  of  some 
brother  present,  would  be  sure  to  stir  him  up,  and  alto- 
gether beyond  his  own  control ;  and  in  spite  of  himself,  as 
well  as  of  all  the  world  beside,  speak  he  must,  and  would, 
and  did. 

He  was,  as  has  been  described,  a  tall  man,  long,  lean,  sun- 
burned by  reason  of  unceasing  exposure  with  his  horses, 
which,  by  the  by,  were  so  many  manias  to  him,  only  less 
than  Jjis  speeches.  Restless  of  eye,  generous  to  an  absurdity 
with  his  money,  whoever  wanted  it,  with  a  shrewd  and  kindly 
face,  he  had  but  one  fault,  —  he  would  speak  !  Nor  was  that 
a  fault  when  you  came  to  know  the  reason  prompting  the 
simple-hearted  man  :  really  it  was  an  excellence  instead. 

The  fact  that  Mr.  Quatty  was  one  of  the  shrewdest  of 
men  in  every  thing  else  caused  this  insanity  of  his  to  stand 
out  in  grotesque  contrast  upon  the  daily  background  of  his 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  189 

otherwise  uniform  and  vigorous  common  sense.  Expla- 
nation is  easy.  He  had  heard  a  vast  deal  of  oratory,  often 
of  an  exceedingly  florid  kind,  on  Fourths  of  July,  during 
political  campaigns,  on  Masonic  anniversaries,  and  the  like ; 
and  whiskey  could  not  have  so  intoxicated  him.  Not  that 
the  subject-matter  of  the  eloquence  was  of  the  slightest  in- 
terest to  him.  A  breathless  listener  from  first  to  last,  by  far 
the  most  excited  hearer  present,  his  one  thought  through  all 
was, — 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  only  get  a  show  at  this  crowd  in  that 
way  !  Yes ;  and,  if  I  could  just  get  to  going,  I  could  pile  on 
the  agony  higher  than  you  are  doing,  you  bet !  " 

In  other  words,  to  Mr.  Quatty,  public  speaking  meant 
declamation,  and  declamation  meant  something  immeasura- 
bly more  than  ordinary  language.  What  so  poor  and  mean 
as  the  daily  talk  he  held  along  the  streets,  now  with  this  one 
man,  and  now  with  that !  In  contrast,  what  so  glorious  as 
for  him  to  have  to  do  with  a  thousand  people  at  once,  his 
talk  swelling  into  a  sort  of  thunder-storm  proportionately  ! 
But  Dr.  Burrows,  his  previous  pastor,  had  stimulated  his  hal- 
lucinations into  almost  madness.  A  very  ore  rotunda  speak- 
er Dr.  Burrows  was.  Portly  of  person,  powerful  of  voice, 
orbicular  of  gesture,  the  solemnity  of  his  themes  gave  a 
sanction  to  his  oratory  which  made  it  a  matter  of  conscience, 
in  additfon  to  all  else,  that  Mr.  Quatty  should  imitate  and 
surpass  it.  He  would  be  more  than  President  of  the  United 
States  if  he  could  present  truth  in  that  way,  now  sinking 
hand  and  voice  into  the  still  small  whisper  of  thrilling 
appeal,  and  now  —  and  this  he  liked  best  —  crashing  upon 
the  people  in  thunder  of  righteous  denunciation. 

"  Ah,  me  !  "  Mr.  Quatty  had  many  a  time  groaned  to  him- 
self on  leaving  church,  "if  I  could  get  up  as  high  as  the 
doctor  did,  I  could  have  got  up  fifty  times  higher,  and  I 
could  have  come  down  upon  those  people  a  hundred  times 
harder.  You  bet !  No,  not  bet :  it's  Sunday,  and  it's  a  ser- 


I9O  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

mon.  But,  oh,  if  I  only  had  any  sort  of  a  show,  —  but  one 
fair  chance, — just  one  !  " 

And  thus  it  came  about  that  he  arose  one  eventful  day 
at  an  unusually  early  hour.  He  had  been  very  wakeful  all 
night,  so  that  when  his  wife  groaned  as  he  got  up,  "O 
Phip,  Phip,  I  wouldn't  if  I  was  you  ! "  and  her  husband 
replied,  "Can't  help  it,  Sally,"  it  was  but  in  continuation 
of  a  conversation  to  a  like  effect  which  had  been  kept  up 
intermittently  through  the  hours  of  darkness  gone  before. 

Mrs.  Quatty  sat  up  in  bed,  arranged  her  hair  a  little, 
rubbed  her  eyes,  which  had  evidently  been  deprived  of  their 
lawful  rest,  and  made  one  last,  despairing  appeal,  — 

"  Oh,  how  I  do  wish  you  wouldn't !  " 

"Can't  help  it,  Sally."  The  words  were  few;  but  it  was 
in  substance  all  Mr.  Quatty  ever  said,  in  that  connection,  to 
her  or  to  any  one  else.  They  were  few  and  final,  because 
they  were  the  utterance  to  others  of  what  was  to  the  man 
himself  the  decree  of  destiny,  necessity,  nature.  He  did 
not  desire  to  make  remarks  in  meeting.  A  vast  deal  rather 
would  he  listen,  instead,  to  anybody  else  you  might  mention. 
"  There  is  nothing  I  have  to  do  I  hate  more,"  he  often  said. 
It  was  the  grief  of  his  life.  "  I  would  rather,  any  day,  have 
an  overseer  take  a  rawhide  to  me,"  he  was  continually  ob- 
serving. By  an  inscrutable  doom,  more  perplexing  and 
painful  to  him  than  it  could  possibly  be  to  any  other,  he 
"had  to  speak,"  and  that  was  all  there  was  of  it.  Mr. 
Quatty  had  never  read  of  the  Virgin  at  Delphi  uttering 
oracles  sorely  against  her  will,  or  he  might  have  quoted  that 
precedent.  As  it  was,  his  reply,  as  final  in  its  tone  as  in  all 
else,  so  cool  because  concerning  something  in  relation  to 
which  all  discussion  was  idle,  —  his  reply  expressed  it  all,  — 

"  Can't  help  it,  Sally." 

The  morning  alluded  to  was  that  of  the  day  upon  which 
it  had  been  arranged  by  Mr.  Quatty's  pastor  that  he  should 
have  a  hall  engaged  for  the  purpose,  and  an  entire  evening 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  IQI 

to  and  for  himself.  Then  and  there  he  was  to  make  fully, 
finally,  once  and  for  all,  the  remarks  which  he  had  so  often 
and  faithfully  tried  to  make  in  prayer-meetings  and  else- 
where, and  tried  in  vain.  Although  the  plan  had  been  sug- 
gested by  his  pastor  cautiously  and  with  hesitation,  lest  it 
should  hurt  his  parishioner's  feelings,  Mr.  Quatty  had  con- 
sented to  it  promptly,  cordially,  almost  rapturously.  It  was 
precisely  the  thing  he  had  desired  for  years. 

"  I  have  never  had  any  show,  you  see,  sir,"  he  explained 
to  Mr.  Venable  at  the  end  of  their  conversation.  "  People 
all  around  me  are  going  to  ruin ;  and  even  when  you  get 
such  people  into  a  meeting,  somehow  what  is  said  does  not 
hit  a  man  of  the  crowd  as  a  hammer  hits  a  nail  on  the  head. 
It  may  all  be  very  good,  but  it  is  mighty  misty  and  round- 
about. Somehow  it  don't  hit  so  as  to  hurt,  and  people  go 
away  exactly  as  they  came.  That  is  the  reason  I  get  up. 
Something  must  be  said.  I  would  as  lief  have  a  hand 
chopped  off  as  to  have  it  to  do  ;  but  if  nobody  else  does  it, 
I  must.'" 

"But  why  not  say  it  all,"  his  friend  asked,  "to  people  in 
conversation?  You  have  many  wicked  men  coming  into 
your  stable  every  day,  you  tell  me  :  why  not  seize  an  op- 
portunity then,  and  have  a  private  talk  ?  I  find  /  can  do 
more  with  a  person  in  such  conversation  than  I  can  from  the 
pulpit."  The  other  made  prompt  reply, — 

"  Because,  being  a  minister,  they  don't  interrupt,  you  see, 
any  more  then  than  when  you  are  preaching.  Talk?  I  try 
to  do  so  every  day  of  my  life.  But  the  fellow,  whoever  it  is, 
will  interrupt.  He  is  sure  to  say,  '  O  Quatty  !  let  me  have 
a  horse  and  buggy,  and  go  ; '  or, '  Stuff,  Quatty,  nonsense  !  if 
you  care  so  for  my  soul,  why  won't  you  let  me  have  that  ten 
dollars?'  I  do  let  them  have  the  ten  dollars,  —  fifty,  for 
that  matter,"  —  Mr.  Quatty  added,  "  except  when  I  know 
for  dead  certain  it  will  go  for  whiskey  or  gambling  or  some- 
thing worse.  No,  sir  !  and  twenty  to  one,  as  sure  as  I  begin 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

to  talk,  the  man  will  say,  '  Well,  now,  you  have  had  your  say, 
let  me  talk ; '  and  then  he  will  fly  off  with  some  joke  or  story, 
or  start  me  talking  horse-flesh.  What  I  want,  you  see,  is  to 
get  at  people  when  I  can  say  all  I've  got  to  say,  without  any- 
body putting  in.  My  idea  is  to  get  a  crowd  to  sit  still  as 
they  do  for  you  at  church,  and  listen.  Then  I  only  want  a 
good  fair  start,  and  I  can  always  have  that  by  beginning  with 
my  being  an  oysterman,  and  all  I  want  is  to  get  to  going,  you 
know  !  I  have  so  much  to  say,"  he  added  with  almost  tears 
in  his  earnest  eyes,  "  that  if  I  get  the  hang  of  the  thing,  the 
swing  of  it,  you  know,  the  rush  of  the  thing,  you  under- 
stand," with  an  illustrative  gesture  of  both  of  his  long  arms, 
as  if  he  were  pushing  some  vehicle  rapidly  before  him,  "  the 
gush  and  rush  and  roar  of  the  thing,  I  could  make  a  speech 
that  would  tell,  —  yes,  sir-ee  bob,  tell  like  thunder  !  " 

And  now  the  morning  of  the  day  set  for  Mr.  Quatty  to 
speak  had  come.  Full  notice  had  been  given  in  all  the  city 
papers,  Col.  Roland  adding  in  his  sheet  a  special  editorial  in 
reference  to  "  Mr.  Quatty,  our  well-known,  estimable,  and 
enterprising  fellow-citizen,"  the  subject  of  the  commendation 
as  ignorant  as  a  lamb  of  the  sarcasm  of  the  colonel's  Italics. 
Never  had  his  many  friends  seemed  so  zealous  in  his  affairs. 
Profane  men  and  gamblers  as  many  of  them  were,  they  had 
cheerfully  contributed  toward  posters  advertising  the  meeting 
in  the  hall,  —  posters  exhausting  the  resources,  both  as  to 
largest  type  and  most  vivid  colors,  of  all  the  printing-offices 
in  the  city.  No  wonder  Mr.  Quatty  was  unable  to  sleep  the 
night  before.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered,  that  on  rising,  as  we 
have  said,  he  resisted  his  wife  to  the  last  as  he  put  on  his 
best  clothes  at  once,  so  as  to  give  his  whole  mind  to  the 
matter  without  the  interruption  of  having  to  dress  again  at 
night.  Immediately  after  breakfast  he  had  his  span  of 
"crack"  grays  harnessed  to  his  own  private  buggy,  and 
drove  off  to  the  sea-beach  to  be  by  himself,  and  to  think. 

It  was  a  morning  bright,  cool,  crisp  enough  to  inspire  the 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  1 93 

dullest  man  living.  Mr.  Quatty's  soul  was  charged  and 
surcharged  with  an  abundance  of  things  to  say,  —  things  to 
him  of  the  highest  conceivable  beauty  and  sublimity,  things 
which  held  and  stirred  his  own  heart  beyond  any  thing  else 
in  the  world.  There  was  plenty  to  say,  no  fear  of  that ;  and 
no  man  could  be  in  more  vigorous,  even  rugged  health :  the 
blood  coursing  swiftly,  that  bracing  morning,  through  his 
brain,  enabling  him  to  dare  and  to  do  every  thing,  as  it  did 
through  his  stomach,  enabling  him  to  digest  every  thing.  As 
he  struck  the  beach  he  shook  the  reins  eagerly.  "  G'lang  !  " 
he  said  to  his  grays ;  and  as  they  sped  along  in  the  fringe  of 
the  surf,  "  That  is  it,"  he  said  aloud,  "  that's  the  way  to  get 
to  going  in  my  speech,  —  the  way  to  get  the  rush  of  the 
thing.  And  now  let  me  study." 

But  the  orator  found  it  almost  impossible  to  do  so  :  he 
could  not  help  going  over  in  mind  his  many  past  efforts 
and  failures  ;  then  he  pictured  to  himself  the  hall  as  it  would 
be  that  night,  the  lights  and  the  crowd,  the  deathlike  stillness 
of  attention,  the  deepening  interest,  the  tears  of  all  present 
as  he  proceeded,  the  applause  when  he  should  end,  the  con- 
gratulations of  his  friends,  the  notices  in  the  papers  next 
day ;  and  more,  far  more  than  all,  the  good  he  would  have 
done  in  general,  and  to  certain  specially  "  hard  cases"  who 
were  sure  to  be  in  attendance.  As  his  horses  flew  along  the 
beach,  their  driver  continually  shaking  the  reins  and  urging 
them  on  in  his  eagerness,  Mr.  Quatty  had  never  been  so 
excited  in  his  life. 

"  The  morning  I  was  to  marry  was  not  a  circumstance  to 
it,"  he  said ;  "  not  even  the  day  I  joined  the  church.  But 
look  here,  Quatty,"  he  continued,  "  this  isn't  studying  your 
speech.  Hold  up  a  moment,"  he  said  aloud,  and  he  reined 
in  his  grays  until  they  came  to  a  stand  :  "  let  me  imagine  all 
the  people  there,  still  as  mice,  and  attentive  as  you  please. 
I  wonder  if  the  hall  will  be  crowded.  Perhaps  some  will 
have  to  sit  on  the  platform  :  never  mind.  Whoa,  hold  up  ! 
let  me  begin  at  the  beginning." 


194  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

Now,  as  we  know,  Mr.  Quatty  always  began  his  remarks 
in  public  by  telling  of  having  once  been  an  oysterman,  and 
a  rather  disreputable  one ;  also  of  his  having  been  rescued 
from  his  evil  courses  by  the  intervention  of  a  stranger  who 
had  told  him,  somewhat  singularly,  that  he  perceived  that 
he,  Mr.  Quatty,  was  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar.  It  is  not 
improbable  that  Mr.  Quatty  had  made  a  hundred  efforts  to 
speak,  and  every  time  he  had  begun  with  these  facts ;  but 
somehow  he  always  broke  down  almost  immediately  after 
stating  them,  whereas  he  had  always  regarded  them  in  theory 
as  but  the  safe  beginning  of  the  rousing  address  he  intended 
to  make.  "  I  was  once,"  he  now  rehearsed,  "  an  oysterman, 
that  I've  got  pat ;  then  that  man,  and  how  I  said  that  I  was 
not  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar,  pat  as  you  please.  Now, 
here  is  just  where  I  begin  to  break  down  :  it's  the  weak  place 
in  the  harness.  I  must  have  something  strong  to  say  exactly 
there.  Can't  you  stop  your  stamping  and  pawing?  Whoa, 
I  say  !  Let  me  see,  let  me  see."  At  this  juncture  a  sea- 
gull swooped  by,  and  so  near  the  heads  of  his  pair,  that, 
eager  for  the  least  pretext  to  do  so,  they  started  off  on  a  run, 
jerking  the  reins  out  of  their  driver's  hands.  There  was  not 
much  danger,  seeing  that  the  ocean  was  on  one  side  of  the 
beach,  and  that  the  sand  was  heaped  up  twenty  feet  high  on 
the  other.  The  horses,  however,  were,  as  well  as  their  driver, 
full  of  life,  and  put  such  soul  as  they,  too,  possessed  into  their 
heels.  Mr.  Quatty  had  been  run  away  with,  who  can  say 
how  many  times  ?  in  his  life,  and  was  before  long  master  again 
of  the  situation  ;  but  when  he  had  his  horses  standing  still 
once  more,  and  all  in  a  foam,  it  was  miles  further  along  the 
beach,  and  all  his  preparations  up  to  that  point  in  his  address 
had  to  be  gone  over  again. 

"  Yah,  you  beauties  ! "  he  said  to  his  horses  as  they 
struggled  once  more  against  the  long  and  sinewy  arm  which 
held  them  in  :  "  you  upset  my  speech,  that  is  all.  You  would, 
would  you  ?  I  only  wish  I  may  run  away  with  that  hall  full 


A  YEAR  WORTH   LIVING.  195 

of  people  to-night  the  same  way.  Yes ;  and  I  can  do  it  if 
nobody  interrupts.  If  I  can  get  to  going,  that  is  all  I  ask ; 
to  get  under  a  good  head  of  steam,  to  get  into  the  rush  of 
the  thing.  Now,  what  next?  Just  at  that  weak  place  I'll 
have  something  as  strong  as  I  can  fix  it,  smart  and  strong  to 
keep  me  from  stopping  one  moment.  Let  me  see  ;  "  and  he 
meditated  deeply,  with  his  head  down,  but  with  no  result.  "  If 
you  only  could 'be  still  one  moment ! "  he  ejaculated  to  his  ani- 
mals. "  It  is  that,  it  is  the  interruption,  that  halts  me  ;  and  all 
I  need  is  to  get  into  a  good  headway.  Let  me  see,"  and  his 
eye  fell  on  a  crab  burrowing  in  the  heaped-up  mounds  of  sand 
on  his  left.  "  Exactly  !  "  he  exclaimed  :  "yes,  I  see  ;  I'll  illus- 
trate that  way,  how  a  fellow  burrows  in  the  dirt  when  he 
drinks  and  gambles,  and  such  like.  I  can  bring  in  the  hard 
shell  and  the  claws,  as  sure  as  you  live.  That's  good  :  they'll 
understand  that!  Get  up  :  I'll  see  something  else  ;  "  and  Mr. 
Quatty  revolved  his  illustration  over  and  over  as  his  horses 
trotted  rapidly  along  against  a  tight  rein,  the  driver  deep  in 
thought. 

Suddenly  they  shied  to  one  side ;  and  only  by  sheer 
strength  could  Mr.  Quatty  hold  them  in,  rearing  and  plun- 
ging. Lying  right  across  their  way  on  the  smooth  hard  beach, 
its  head  downward,  and  still  tossed  as  to  the  matted  hair  by 
the  receding  tide,  was  the  body  of  a  drowned  sailor.  It 
had  evidently  been  washed  up  by  the  heavy  surf  of  the  night 
before,  and  it  was  not  the  first  time  Mr.  Quatty  had  come  on 
such  a  sight  along  that  beach  :  he  held  his  struggling  horses 
in  as  he  considered  matters.  Life  had  long  been  extinct. 
The  glazed  eyes  were  staring  at  the  sky ;  the  brawny  and 
tattooed  breast  was  all  bare  to  the  day ;  the  ineffectual  arms, 
pictured  over  even  to  the  tips  of  the  fingers  with  anchors 
and  crosses  and  hearts,  were  spread  out  in  dumb  appeal  on 
either  side,  still  being  lifted  and  let  fall  by  the  ebb  and  flow 
of  the  retiring  sea. 

"  Poor  fellow ;  but  you  ain't  the  first,"  said  Mr.  Quatty, 


196  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"  nor  will  you  be  the  last.  I'll  drive  right  back,  and  send 
out  the  coroner,"  and  he  turned  his  horses  suddenly  around. 
"Hold  up!"  he  exclaimed  with  excitement  as  he  did  so: 
"  it's  a  providence  has  pitched  you  into  the  very  outset  of  my 
speech.  Why,  it's  the  grandest  sort  of  an  idea  !  —  A  man, 
dear  friends,"  and  Mr.  Quatty  transferred  the  reins  from  his 
right  hand  to  his  left,  and  extended  his  long  arm  to  an 
imaginary  audience,  "  a  mortal  man  once  as  full  of  life  and 
deviltry,  I  dessay,  as  any  of  you,  and  now  behold  —  Oh  ! 
I  have  got  the  idea.  I  am  sorry  for  you,  but  glad  for  my 
speech.  Yes,"  he  added,  shaking  his  fist  at  the  buzzards 
slowly  circling  round  and  round  overhead,  "  I'll  put  you  in 
too.  —  Many  and  many  a  man  of  you,"  Mr.  Quatty  con- 
tinued, returning  to  his  audience  with  an  inflation  of  his 
voice  into  oratory,  and  a  wave  of  his  hand,  "  is  a  worse  tur- 
key-buzzard, a-circling  and  a-swooping  every  day  round  and 
round  many  a  poor  sailor  in  our  harbor  !  Oh,  but  I'll  make 
your  feathers  fly  to-night !  "  Mr.  Quatty  added  with  another 
shake  of  his  fist,  this  time  at  those  of  whom  the  birds  of 
prey  were  but  a  type.  "G'lang,  boys  !  "  he  added  to  his 
horse  ;  and,  as  they  gladly  sped  homeward,  "  I'll  hold  on  to 
what  I've  got,  and  go  for  the  coroner.  Get  up,  will  you  !  " 

It  was  dinner-time  before  he  had  despatched  the  legal  offi- 
cer and  his  jury  in  a  wagon  from  his  stable,  —  quite  a  jolly 
set  as  they  drove  off.  Through  all  these  arrangements,  as 
well  as  during  the  hasty  meal  which  followed,  Mr.  Quatty 
clung  closely  to  so  much  of  his  address  as  he  had  accumu- 
lated thus  far,  his  enthusiasm  greatly  quickened  by  the  events 
of  the  morning,  as  well  as  by  the  posters  of  the  night's 
meeting  which  he  could  not  help  seeing  as  they  blazed  upon 
every  wall.  "  O  Phip,  Phip,  I  would  not !  "  his  wife,  holding 
to  his  arm  as  he  rose  from  the  table,  continued  to  urge. 
"  The  people  are  only  making  game  of  you.  Please  don't ! 
The  children  have  had  ever  so  many  fights  with  boys  about  it 
to-day  already,  and  you  so  sensible  a  man  in  every  thing  else  : 
don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself,  Phip,  please  don't." 


A  YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  197 

"  Sally,"  her  husband  said,  "  it's  because  you  don't  under- 
stand. Look  here  !  you  think  it  will  be  only  my  having 
been  an  oysterman.  I  tell  you  !  why,  I've  got  plenty  of 
new  ideas  to-day,  —  splendid  ideas  !  all  I  want  to  do  is  to 
do  good,  and  you  know  it.  Somebody  must  talk  to  these 
people,  and  who  else  is  even  trying  to?  You  might  have 
stopped  me  this  morning,  but  I  wouldn't  give  up  making 
that  speech  now  for  the  best  horse  in  America.  Just  you 
wait,"  and  he  was  gone  :  it  was  to  get  a  fresh  pair  of  horses, 
and  drive  along  the  beach  in  the  direction  opposite  to  that 
of  the  morning.  "  All  I  want  is  to  have  no  interruptions. 
Once  let  me  get  fairly  to  going,"  he  said  again,  "  and  all  the 
fear  is,  I'll  never  be  able  to  stop.  An  engine,  let  alone  a 
horse  or  a  man,  goes  better  after  it  gets  warm  to  its  work. 
Let  me  see,  oysterman  —  not  gentleman  and  scholar  —  crabs 
— buzzards  —  no,  hold  up,  the  dead  man  comes  before  that ; 
and  now,  what  after  that  ?  "  Mr.  Quatty  reined  in  beside 
the  surf,  and  meditated,  "  Why,  here's  the  sea,  rolling  and 
rolling.  —  Whoa,  hold  up  !  —  And  there  is  the  blue  sky  too, 
and  plenty  of  stars ;  yes,"  he  continued  with  enthusiasm, 
"  and  the  wind  too,  blowing,  blowing.  —  Can't  you  be  still, 
you  fools?"  to  his  impatient  horses.  "  It's  a  splendid  idea ;" 
and,  looking  carefully  around  to  be  sure  that  nothing  but  sea 
and  sand  were  in  sight,  he  stood  up,  for  he  was  now  using 
an  open  wagon,  and,  holding  his  reins  with  one  hand,  he 
extended  the  other. 

"  Fellow-citizens  !  I  am  here  to-night  —  never  mind  about 
oysters  —  scholar  —  degraded  vermin  wallowing  in  the  sand 
—  mud,  I  mean  —  worse  than  that,  swooping  down  on  car- 
rion wings  —  no!  why  can't  you  remember  to  have  the  dead 
man  in  first  ?  —  a  something  to  swoop  on !  never  mind, 
that'll  all  come  right  when  I  get  into  the  rush  of  speaking  — 
and,  oh,  friends  !  the  boundless  booming  sea,  rolling  in  like 
death,  swallowing  us  all  u "  —  that  will  be  grand,  you  bet ! 
And  ye  tremendous  winds"  —  Mr.  Quatty  here  held  the 


198  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

reins  firmly  down  under  his  foot,  that  he  might  use  both 
hands,  and  continued,  "  You  powerful  breezes  which  sweep 
us  all  away,  you  —  whoa,  hold  up  !  can't  you  hold  up,  you 
brutes  !  —  and  this  superior  sky  a-bending  down  from  up 
there  — oh,  I'll  get  that  in,  you  bet !  As  also  those  clouds, 
they  are  like  our  flimsy  lives,  you  see.  Ye  float  about,  you 
melting  and  fluffy  things  —  halloo,  no,  sir,  fluffy  won't  do. 
Never  mind,  when  I  once  get  fairly  a-going,  those  little  things 
will  fix  themselves.  And  O  ye  —  you  —  what  else  ?  " 

Mr.  Quatty  stood  with  extended  arms,  the  honest  soul  of 
the  man  in  his  eyes  and  tones  and  long  hands  sweeping  around 
him,  in  the  bursts  of  his  oratory,  like  a  windmill.  The  liv- 
ery-stable keeper  was  not  insane.  He  was  surrounded  every 
day  of  his  life  by  very  bad  men  whom  he  was  anxious  to 
turn  from  their  gambling  and  drinking  and  other  desperate 
courses,  in  which  some  of  them  were  being  killed  almost 
every  week.  He  had  an  abundance  to  say.  His  imagined 
audience  were  people  who  never  went  into  a  church,  "  or, 
if  they  did  go,"  Mr.  Quatty  repeated  as  so  often  before, 
"what  good  wpuld  it  do  them?  Preachers  never  say  the 
sort  of  things  such  people  need ;  or,  if  they  do,  they  never 
begin  to  say  them  half  hard  enough."  If  ever  a  soul  was 
driven,  and  as  by  its  own  fulness,  to  express  itself,  that  soul 
was  Phip  Quatty.  He  had  a  vast  deal  to  say,  and  of  more 
pressing  importance  than  Demosthenes  before  him,  com- 
peting with  the  sea-surf,  ever  dreamed  of  having :  only  the 
impediment  in  his  case  was  worse  than  in  that  of  the  orator 
with  the  pebble  in  his  mouth.  Neither  Whitefield,  Chalmers, 
Spurgeon,  nor  the  rest,  had  a  larger  or  sincerer  heart  to  do 
good ;  nor  did  these  know  as  much  more  as  you  might 
suppose  of  that  which  was  of  practical  value  to  say.  The 
trouble  was,  that  somehow  this  lover  of  his  kind  had  never 
been  able  to  say  out  to  people  the  much  that,  he  felt  as  sure 
as  he  did  of  his  own  existence,  he  had  to  say.  John  Bun- 
yan,  the  tinker,  managed  to  write  out  his  message  to  men ; 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  199 

and  Hans  Sachs,  the  cobbler,  succeeded  in  singing  to  the 
listening  world  what  he  had  in  his  soul  for  them  :  all  that 
Mr.  Quatty  wanted  all  along  was  a  "  fair  show."  He  would 
have  it  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  in  the  hall  that  night,  and 
he  would  use  it ! 

Standing  erect  in  his  vehicle,  his  foot  firmly  pressed  upon 
the  reins,  he  poured  out  for  some  time  quite  a  torrent  of 
exhortation,  denunciation,  and  entreaty  in  rehearsal. 

"  Ye  hard-headed  and  harder- hearted  ones,"  he  continued 
with  increasing  vehemence,  and,  in  the  earnestness  of  his 
appeal  with  both  extended  hands,  forgetting  the  reins  under 
his  foot,  "  you  miserable  men  soaking  yourselves  along  our 
wharves  with  strychnine  whiskey,  awake,  rouse  out,  get  up  !  " 
It  was  said  with  such  emphasis  that  his  horses  mistook 
it  for  an  address  to  them,  and  started  forward  with  a  bound. 
The  impassioned  orator  fell  back  into  his  seat ;  and  when  at 
last  he  had  recovered  the  reins,  he  had  his  whole  address  to 
go  over  again  from  the  first. 

When  Mr.  Quatty  went  to  the  hall  at  night,  he  was  ex- 
hausted as  from  the  hardest  day's  work  he  had  ever  done. 
But  his  flagging  spirits  revived  when  he  forced  his  way 
through  the  crowd,  and  stepped  upon  the  platform.  As  he 
did  so,  a  band  of  music  struck  up.  It  was  a  most  gratifying 
surprise.  The  fact  was,  that  the  friends  who  had  plastered 
every  wall  in  St.  Jerome  with  the  flaming  posters  had  also 
secured  the  best  band  in  the  city ;  and  it  put  its  entire  energy 
into  Hail  Columbia  as  soon  as  he  had  taken  his  seat.  The 
attendance  was  enormous  ;  for  it  was  a  large  hall,  and  every 
seat  and  standing-place  was  occupied.  A  doubt  held  the 
crowd  as  to  the  exact  nature  of  the  conduct  to  be  pursued. 
Was  it  a  show,  with  Mr.  Quatty  as  clown  ?  or  was  it  indeed 
a  religious  service,  with  that  gentleman  as  the  speaker  ?  The 
large  audience,  made  up  almost  wholly  of  men,  —  chiefly  of 
men  never  seen  at  church,  —  oscillated  as  upon  an  edge, 
somewhat  more  ready,  however,  to  laugh  than  to  weep  ;  but 


2OO  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

every  man  present  had  the  sincerest  liking  for  the  orator  of 
the  hour. 

"Now,  Quatty,"  that  gentleman  kept  saying  to  himself, 
"  you  keep  cool,  hold  a  tight  rein,  don't  get  flurried  :  it's 
only  like  driving  a  big  team.  Be  slow  and  steady  until  you 
get  to  going.  As  soon  as  you  do  get  going,  get  fairly  started, 
get  into  a  rush,  you  let  yourself  out.  Never  mind  how  long 
you  speak :  you  let  her  go,  and  somehow  you'll  come  out 
all  right !  Don't  forget,  now.  Oysterman  —  scholar  —  buz- 
zards —  no,  crabs  —  you  fool,  it's  the  drowned  man  first  — 
all  right  —  wind  flowing  forever  and  ev  —  no,  sir.,  the  sea 
comes  first,  rolling  and  rolling  —  the  splendid  sun.  The 
sun?  Oh,  never  mind,  I'll  get  something  to  fix  with  that ;  " 
and  under  his  anxious  exterior  Mr.  Quatty  conned  his  list 
of  ideas  over  and  over  again,  until  the  brass-band  had  ex- 
hausted the  national  air.  With  the  silence  which  followed, 
the  orator  of  the  hour  stepped  forward  to  the  front  of  the 
platform.  In  the  uncertainty  as  to  whether  it  was  a  show  or 
a  church,  the  audience  sat  still,  ready  for  any  thing.  Now, 
a  little  to  one  side  in  front  of  the  platform  was  seated 
Mr.  Fanthorp,  who  was  universally  known,  as  has  been  said 
before,  by  the  cognomen  of  Farce  Fanthorp  by  reason  of 
his  unwearying  fondness  for  "  a  little  fun ;  "  a  fondness  which 
he  indulged  by  the  equally  unwearying  manufacture  of  that 
article  when  it  was  lacking ;  the  essence  and  success  of  his 
jocularity  consisting  in  the  gravity  of  his  countenance 
through  it  all.  Men  began  to  laugh  and  to  look  out  for  a 
joke  at  the  very  sight  of  the  man ;  but  Mr.  Quatty,  although 
he  recognized  him  from  the  first  as  well  as  all  along,  was  too 
much  absorbed  in  his  speech  to  remember  that  it  was  Farce 
Fanthorp.  The  moment  the  orator  stepped  forward,  the 
lawyer  began,  with  eyes  kindling  with  enthusiasm  and  with 
the  most  serious  of  faces,  to  applaud ;  and  the  entire  audience 
accepted  the  suggestion  with  enthusiastic  delight.  It  was 
some  time  before  Mr.  Quatty  could  get  a  hearing  above  the 
pounding  of  feet  and  the  clapping  of  hands. 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  2OI 

"My  friends,"  he  began  at  last  with  extended  hand, 
"  your  humble  speaker  was  once  an  oysterman.  You  may 
be  surprised,  but  so  it  is.  I  made  my  living  by  dredging 
for  oysters"  — 

"Clams?" 

The  question  was  put  by  Mr.  Fanthorp,  from  his  seat 
among  the  people,  in  clear  but  respectful  tones :  evidently 
his  only  object  was  to  know.  • 

"  Occasionally,  yes,  sir,"  Mr.  Quatty  replied,  turning  his 
honest  face  in  the  direction  of  the  questioner.  "  Yes,  fellow- 
citizens,"  he  continued,  again  extending  his  oratorical  hand  : 
"little  as  you  may  think  it,  I  was  once  nothing  but  an 
oysterman"  — 

"Crabs?" 

Nothing  could  be  more  respectful  than  the  question.  The 
serious  aspect  of  Mr.  Fanthorp  showed  that  his  sole  desire 
was  to  be  thoroughly  informed. 

"  Very  rarely,"  the  speaker  replied,  with  the  utmost  can- 
dor. "  But  I  haven't  got  to  crabs  yet.  Once  I  was  an  oys- 
terman, gentlemen,"  Mr.  Quatty  continued,  again  lifting  his 
hand  which  he  had  let  fall  in  replying  to  his  questioner. 
"  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  I  used  to  lie  and  even  to  steal "  — 

"How  much?" 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  state  exactly,"  the  orator  con- 
tinued in  reply  to  the  question,  again  letting  his  hand  fall. 
"  Also,  I  blush  to  say,  I  was  in  the  habit  of  drinking,  O 
friends  !  I  used  to  keep  a  demijohn  buried  in  the  sand  near 
by,  and  drink  and  drink  almost  to  the  destruction  of  my 
imperishable  "  — 

"Rifle,  or  bald-face?" 

"Rifle,  bald-face,  rum,  gin,  all  sorts  of  liquors,"  Mr. 
Quatty  hastened  to  say.  "  As  bad  a  man  I  was  as  the  best 
man  here,  I  mean  the  very  worst.  And  I  used  to  quarrel  and 
squabble  and  fight.  One  occasion  I  will  never  forget.  I 
had  had  it  rough-and-tumble  with  a  gambler.  ^Ve  fought " — 


2O2  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"Fetch  him?"  the  question  was  asked  by  some  one  in 
a  distant  part  of  the  hall,  who  had  taken  his  cue  from  Mr. 
Fanthorp,  with  grave  uneasiness. 

"  No,  sir  !  I'm  glad  to  say  I  did  not  fetch  him  :  I  never 
used  any  thing  but  my  fists.  And,  O  my  friends  !  it  was 
a  happy  thing  for  me,"  the  speaker  continued,  evidently  with 
an  effort,  "  when  one  day  a  stranger  came  along ;  I  was 
dredging  Asters  in  the  flats  :  he  stood  looking  on  for  a  while, 
and  we  passed  the  compliments  of  the  day.  Says  he  at 
last,  '  Sir,  under  your  rude  garb  I  see  that  you  are  a  gentle- 
man and  a  scholar; '  which,  my  friends,  I  am  not!  " 

Mr.  Quatty  seemed  refreshed  by  the  energy  with  which 
he  said  it,  and  still  more  by  the  applause  with  which  the 
denial  was  received;  and  launched  out  with  much  vigor 
into  a  detail  of  the  conversation  which  followed  between 
the  stranger  and  himself.  "Yes,  sir,"  he  added  at  last, 
"  that  man  was  —  was  —  I  lack  power  to  say  —  what  that 
man  was  —  I  mean  to  me.  O  my  fellow-citizens  !  to  me 
he  was"  —  and  Mr.  Quatty  stood,  overflowing  with  grati- 
tude, his  hands  clasped  together  and  lifted  up,  his  eyes 
searching  slowly  over  the  audience  as  if  for  the  strongest 
word  to  be  had,  "  I  wish  I  could  say  what  he  was :  to  me 
he  was"  — 

"A  peddler?" 

The  suggestion  came  very  loud  from  the  back  of  the  hall. 

"  No,  sir,  not  at  all,"  the  speaker  said  with  entire  frank- 
ness, but  fallen  suddenly  from  his  fervor.  "  Not  much,  not 
at  all ;  no,  sir,  he  was  nothing  of  the  kind  whatever  ! "  but 
Mr.  Quatty  was  compelled  to  give  way  for  quite  a  time  to 
the  laughter  and  applause  which  followed.  The  trouble  with 
the  speaker  was  not  in  the  interruptions  alone,  but  that  they 
constrained  him  to  change,  and  so  suddenly,  from  the  inflat- 
ed tones  wherein,  as  he  firmly  believed,  all  oratory  lay. 
There  was  a  sudden  resumption  of  the  specie  payment  of 
ordinary  language,  which  was  very  unpleasant.  He  was  not 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  20$ 

the  man,  however,  to  yield  as  yet,  especially  as  he  had  the 
leading  incident  of  the  morning's  ride  still  in  reserve ;  and 
he  made  another  and  more  earnest  effort. 

"  My  friends,"  he  began  again  with  outstretched  arms,  as 
the  crowded  room  became  comparatively  quiet,  "what  is 
life  ?  It  was  this  very  day  it  happened.  I  was  driving  up 
the  beach;  yes,  this  very  day  I  beheld  a  fellow-creature 
lying  all  prostrate  upon  the  cold,  cold  ground  !  "  Mr.  Quat- 
ty  had  practised  this  part  of  his  address,  standing  up  in  his 
vehicle,  a  good  deal,  and  rallied  his  waning  energies  upon 
it.  "  A  fellow-creature,  a  sailor  like  a  good  many  of  you, 
lying  on  the  cold,  wet  beach  !  One  a  few  hours  before,"  in 
slow  and  solemn  tones,  "  as  full  of  life  as  any  one  of  you  all, 
perhaps  not  a  quarter  as  bad  ;  and  there  " — the  orator  add- 
ed, recoiling  as  from  the  sight,  and  holding  out  a  horror- 
stricken  hand  over  the  drowned  man  lying  at  his  feet,  "  there 
he  lay,"  in  low,  sepulchral  tones :  "  yes,  friends,  there  that 
sailor-man  lay  dead  —  dead  "  — 

"Drunk?" 

The  question  was  put  by  some  one  near  the  platform,  and 
was  unheard  by  the  audience. 

"  No,  sir,  he  was  not  drunk!  "  Mr.  Quatty  said  it  with 
such  indignant  energy  as  to  bring  down  the  house  in  peals 
of  laughter. 

"I  had  intended,"  the  speaker  continued,  rising  in  his 
wrath  above  the  uproar,  and  dropping  all  oratorical  tone 
and  gesture  entirely,  —  "I  had  intended  to  make  a  good, 
long,  rousing  speech  to  you,"  he  shouted  with  voice  and 
manner  exactly  as  when  calling  to  his  friends  along  the 
streets,  or  when  the  wharves  were  crowded  on  the  arrival  of 
a  steamer.  "  If  I  could  only  have  got  a  fair  start,  if  I  had 
only  got  to  going,  into  the  rush  of  the  thing,  I  could  have 
done  it,"  he  continued  in  his  most  natural  manner.  "  You 
fellows  need  it ;  if  ever  a  set  of  men  need  it,  you  do  !  I 
intended  telling  you  about  how  you  are  like  vermin  burrow- 


2O4  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

ing  in  the  sand,  and  like  turkey-buzzards  ;  was  going  to  tell 
you  about  the  rolling  sea,  and  the  rushing  sky,  —  I  mean 
wind,  —  but  it  does  not  matter  now.  If  ever,"  the  exasper- 
ated orator  continued,  shaking  what  looked  very  much  like 
a  fist  at  his  audience,  "  if  ever  I  make,  or  try  to  make, 
another  speech  —  No,  sir,  I  never  will  again  as  long  as  I 
live,  so  help  me  Heaven  !  "  As  he  said  it,  Mr.  Quatty  turned 
to  take  his  seat,  surprised,  even  in  his  wrath,  at  the  sudden 
silence,  the  slackening  at  least  of  their  laughter,  which  had 
fallen  on  the  people.  It  was  explained  when  he  saw  that 
Mr.  Venable  had  stepped  upon  the  platform,  and  was  stand- 
ing at  one  side  waiting  for  him  to  get  through.  By  a 
mutual  movement  the  two  men  shook  cordial  hands  as  if  hi 
ratification  of  the  pledge  just  given ;  and  the  audience  gave 
way  to  hearty  and  good-humored  applause  as  well  as  laugh- 
ter at  the  sight. 

"  Friends,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  laughing,  and  holding  up  a 
hand  for  silence,  "  our  esteemed  fellow-citizen  is  greatly 
obliged  to  you  for  your  attendance  here  to-night.  We  all 
know  Mr.  Quatty,  and  we  all  like  him.  Why,  only  this 
very  day  I  heard  of  a  generous  act  of  his  to  a  poor  widow 
with  a  large  and  needy  family ; "  and  Mr.  Quatty's  pastor 
proceeded  to  tell  of  it.  And  that  suggested  another  deed 
of  kindness  on  the  part  of  the  ex-speaker  to  some  one  else, 
even  more  liberal ;  and  that,  another  still.  By  virtue  of  the 
simple  narration  of  the  facts,  the  audience  were  laughing 
and  in  tears  alternately. 

"  Now,  we  ah1  know,"  Mr.  Venable  said  at  last,  "  that  for 
one  real,  sterling,  honest  man  who  does  what  is  generous  and 
noble,  there  are  a  thousand  who  can  make  speeches  glibly 
enough.  It  is  the  man  we  respect,  not  the  flippant  talker. 
You  all  know  what  Burns  says ;  "  and  Mr.  Venable,  who  had 
the  lines  at  his  tongue's  end,  repeated  the  whole  poem,  "  A 
man's  a  man  for  a'  that,"  with  all  his  energy  and  pathos. 
As  he  sat  down,  Mr.  Fanthorp  sprang  upon  the  platform,  and 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  2O5 

proposed  three  cheers  for  Mr.  Quatty.  They  were  given 
with  a  will,  the  audience  rising  to  do  so  more  effectively ; 
and  then,  to  the  music  of  the  Star-Spangled  Banner  per- 
formed with  unusual  power  by  the  band  in  attendance,  the 
large  congregation  slowly  dispersed,  quite  a  number  linger- 
ing behind  to  shake  Mr.  Quatty  cordially  by  the  hand. 

Although  that  gentleman  never  again  tried  to  speak  in 
public,  as  an  orator  at  least,  somehow  he  felt  that  he  had 
made  a  grand  success  of  it  in  his  last  attempt  to  do  so. 


2O6  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  NIGHT  ON   BOARD  THE   BAYOU-BOAT. 

GEN.  BUTTOLPH,  his  daughters  and  their  brother 
Grit,  Mr.  Venable,  and  Mr.  Fanthorp,  stood  upon  the 
deck  of  the  bayou-boat  Magnolia  a  few  days  after  Mr. 
Quatty's  oratorical  effort.  The  sun  was  slowly  sinking  into 
the  sea  as  they  thus  set  out  upon  their  visit  to  the  gen- 
eral's plantation.  Of  all  of  them  Mr.  Venable  was  most 
eager  to  go.  Since  he  had  come  to  St.  Jerome,  and  of  late 
especially,  he  had  done  the  hardest  work  he  had  ever 
attempted ;  and  he  enjoyed  a  change. 

"How  are  you,  sir?"  he  said  to  Mr.  Quatty,  who  came 
on  board  to  bid  him  good-by.  "  Yonder  is  the  old  Nautilus." 

"Yes,  she  keeps  afloat  still,"  Mr.  Quatty  said.  "Sea- 
going men  say  the  Flying  Dutchman  is  not  to  be  mentioned 
alongside  her.  Bets  run  ten  to  one  every  trip,  against  her 
coming  again  next  time.  Why,  sir,"  Phip  Quatty  continued, 
"  there's  sporting  men  that  go  on  her  as  a  regular  thing,  bet- 
ting heavy  odds  against  surviving.  Life-preservers  thrown 
in,  too,  at  their  own  risk.  That  boat  is  a  sort  of  roulette 
ball,  if  you  understand  gambling,  sir, — a  something  always  on 
the  move,  and  sure  to  go  down  next  time.  I  gambled  like 
sixty  when  I  was  an  oysterman,  and  it  takes  all  the  religion 
I  have  to  keep  from  betting  on  her.  But  there's  your  bell. 
I'll  remind  them  to  remember  you  Wednesday  night  at 
prayer-meeting ; "  and  Mr.  Quatty  parted  from  his  friend  with 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  2O/ 

the  usual  cordial  grasp  of  his  hand.  There  was  a  sort  of 
physical  magnetism  which  drew  the  two  together,  —  a  supply 
and  demand,  each  of  what  he  did  not  himself  possess  in  the 
other,  which  made  the  man  of  horses  love  his  pastor  only 
less  than  his  own  wife,  while  the  scholarly  minister  preferred 
Mr.  Quatty  decidedly  to  Commodore  Grandheur,  Mr.  No- 
gens,  Col.  Roland,  and  a  dozen  beside. 

Next  to  Mr.  Quatty,  Mr.  Venable  liked  Capt.  Chaffin  and 
Mr.  Parsons.  As  to  Mr.  Fanthorp,  very  rarely  indeed  did  he 
go  to  church.  If  he  did  so  more  of  late  than  formerly,  it 
was  because  of  Miss  Irene.  To  Mr.  Venable,  after  his  long 
and  steady  work  in  his  study,  as  well  as  among  the  poor  and 
suffering,  the  jocose  lawyer  was  of  medicinal  value  as  an  al- 
terative. He  deplored  the  fact  that  the  other  was  as  desti- 
tute of  the  religious  faculty  as  Charlie  Chaffingsby  of  intellect ; 
and  yet,  after  his  own  long-continued  devotion  to  things 
spiritual,  there  was  in  Mr.  Fanthorp  the  variety  at  least  of  a 
fiddle  after  the  solemn  thunders  of  an  organ,  and  he  was 
glad  that  he  was  to  accompany  them. 

As  the  Magnolia  steamed  away  from  the  wharf,  Mr.  Fan- 
thorp beckoned  him  to  go  with  him  down  stairs. 

"  I  want  you  to  see,"  he  said. 

"To  see  what?"  the  other  asked,  on  his  guard  against 
some  practical  joke ;  but  following  him  down  and  toward 
the  rear  of  the  vessel.  "  There  !  "  Mr.  Fanthorp  said ;  and 
he  pointed  to  the  mulatto  woman,  Iphigenia,  seated  on  the 
deck  near  the  furnace-wood,  a  bright-colored  handkerchief 
tied  about  her  head,  her  hands  lying  listlessly  in  her  lap,  her 
complexion  like  a  film  of  ashes  over  a  coal  of  fire. 

"What  of  her?"  he  asked;  adding,  "that  is  only  Iphi- 
genia. She  belongs  to  the  general.  He  bought  her  when 
he  was  on  after  his  daughters.  She  came  over  with  us  in 
the  Nautilus.  What  about  her?"  with  a  smile  ready  upon 
his  lips  for  Mr.  Fanthorp's  joke,  whatever  it  might  be. 

"She  is  going  with  us  to  the  plantation,"  the  other  said, 
looking  steadily  in  Mr.  Venable 's  eyes. 


2O8  A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"Well,  what  of  that?"  the  other  demanded. 

Mr.  Fanthorp  rubbed  his  hand  impatiently  over  his  chin, 
looking  at  the  other  with  curiosity,  and  added,  — 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Gen.  Buttolph  ?  " 

"  Gen.  Buttolph  !  Why  do  you  ask  ?  I  think  what  we 
all  think,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  —  "that  he  is  as  liberal  as  he 
is  wealthy;  a  warm-hearted,  noble-minded,  excellent  man 
in  every  sense  of  the  word.  An  indulgent  father,  possibly 
an  indolent  man :  you  know  how  large  and  heavy  he  is." 
Yet  his  heart  sank  within  him  as  he  said  it ;  for  the  words  of 
old  Plenty,  as  well  as  certain  things  he  had  seen  of  late, 
had  filled  him  with  painful  doubt. 

Mr.  Fanthorp  had  ceased  rubbing  his  chin,  and,  with  his 
hand  arrested  in  the  act,  was  looking  at  him  with  his  eyes 
drawn  together  as  if  he  were  near-sighted  and  wished  to 
make  sure  that  the  other  meant  what  he  said. 

"  Well ! "  he  remarked  at  last.  And  then,  "  You  will 
excuse  me,  sir,  but "  —  and  he  uttered  an  oath,  with  delib- 
erate intention,  as  if  before  the  judge  on  the  bench.  As 
they  walked  away,  he  stopped  and  held  the  other  a  moment 
by  the  arm. 

"  I  have  heard  of  the  heavenly  innocence  of  you  preach- 
ers," Mr.  Fanthorp  said,  as  he  released  his  arm.  "Lamb- 
like !  Well,  may  I  be"  —  and  with  a  silent  gesture  he 
gravely  consigned  himself  to  perdition.  "Why,  how,"  he 
added,  turning  almost  fiercely  upon  the  other,  "do  you 
hope  to  grapple  with  and  lift  men  out  of  their  boots,  and 
whirl  them  around  in  their  tracks,  and  yet  remain  as  ignor- 
ant of  the  people  next  you  as  a  baby?  No  wonder  you 
rove  among  the  flowers  and  purling  brooks  :  sheep  always 
do.  I  like  you,  sir,"  the  swarthy  little  man  said,  "  but  you 
are  as  utterly  ignorant  of  men  as  —  as  Capt.  Chaffin's  Clara  ! 
Excuse  me  !  "  and  he  was  gone. 

Mr.  Venable  would  have  been  less  surprised,  if  the  words 
had  not  found  instant  confirmation  in  himself.  "  But  is  it 


A  YEAR  WORTH   LIVING.  2(X) 

my  fault,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  went  up-stairs  again, 
"when  intimate  friends  in  the  church,  the  very  officers 
appointed  to  aid  me  in  my  work,  never  tell  me  ?  People 
always  show  at  their  best  before  me,  as  if  I  were  a  lady. 
Where  do  I  ever  see  them  except  in  church,  or  parlor,  or 
when  they  are  sick  or  dying?  The  instant  I  come  near 
them,  they  put  on,  from  head  to  foot,  their  Sunday-go-to- 
meeting  manners.  Their  very  smiles  and  tones  are  sab- 
batical with  me.  As  Heaven  helps  me,"  he  added,  "  I  will 
try  hereafter  to  know  people.  They  cannot  be  harder  than 
Hebrew  or  Greek.  But  there's  the  gong  for  supper;"  for 
he  was  glad  to  escape  from  further  thought  just  then. 

The  supper-gong  !  Ever  since  he  reached  St.  Jerome  he 
had  heard  of  the  suppers  of  the  Magnolia.  Mr.  Fanthorp 
had  already  pointed  out  to  him  among  the  passengers  this 
old  judge,  and  that  venerable  and  fat  major,  and  the  other 
colonel,  as  people  who,  having  nothing  in  particular  to  do, 
lived  on  the  boat,  journeying  up  and  down  almost  every  trip 
expressly  to  eat  those  celebrated  suppers.  Nor  did  he  won- 
der when  he  assisted  them  on  that  occasion.  It  evidently 
was  an  occasion.  The  negro  waiters — from  the  head  stew- 
ard, stationed  as  high-priest  at  the  separate  table  upon  which 
every  dish  was  placed  before  it  was  served,  down  to  the 
least  yellow  boy —  showed  by  the  solemnity  of  their  aspect 
how  portentous  was  the  feast.  There  was  no  hurry  here ; 
nor  was  there  any  confusion  or  mistake  as  to  seats,  any 
more  than  at  church.  People  expectantly  waited  the  sig- 
nal, lingering  near  their  chairs  at  the  table,  peeping  out  of 
their  staterooms  on  either  side.  Not  one  but  was  comfort- 
ably located  at  the  board  before  the  gong  had  ceased  its 
thunder.  A  sumptuous  repast  it  was.  If  any  thing  could 
have  been  added  —  as  to  quantity,  variety,  quality,  cookery, 
—  Mr.  Venable,  at  least,  could  not  imagine  it. 

But  he  had  no  appetite,  none  the  less,  and  withdrew  to 
the  "  guards  "  outside  the  cabin  as  soon  as  he  could.  Sit- 


2IO  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

ting  thereupon  in  his  arm-chair,  he  was  conscious,  as  night 
fell,  that  Mr.  Fanthorp  was  beside  him,  cigar  in  mouth. 
The  boat  was  steaming  steadily  up  the  bay.  Nothing  but 
the  sea  was  in  sight,  except  low-lying  reefs  of  sand  in  the 
distance  toward  the  north.  Even  the  volatile  lawyer  ap- 
peared to  be  subdued  by  the  silence  which  was  part  of  the 
sluggishness  of  the  scene  surrounding  them.  But  Mr.  Fan- 
thorp  was  not  one  to  remain  long  silent. 

"  I  wanted  to  apologize  for  my  profanity,"  he  said  at  last ; 
"  but,  frankly,  I  could  not  help  it.  You  should  not  astonish 
a  man  so,  Mr.  Venable.  Before  a  lady  and  a  clergyman, 
swearing  is  improper.  May  I  ask  you  another  question?" 
he  added,  after  quite  a  silence.  "  Do  you  know  Gov.  Ma- 
gruder,  who  sat  beside  Miss  Zeo  at  table  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  was  introduced  to  him  at  Gen.  Buttolph's 
house,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  with  some  reserve  of  manner. 
"  A  very  handsome  man  he  is ;  and  wealthy,  I  am  told." 

"  He  has  not  been  at  the  general's  often  ? "  the  other 
asked. . 

"  I  really  cannot  say.  He  calls  when  he  comes  down 
from  his  plantation.  His  visits  are  usually  in  the  morning, 
when  I  am  at  my  studies.  He  has .  dined  there  several 
times.  They  have  often  spoken  of  him.  His  popular  man- 
ners were  the  only  special  impression  he  made  on  me. 
Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  justify  my  profanity,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  said, 
"  by  showing  you,  Mr.  Venable,  how  astonishingly  ignorant 
—  I  mean  innocent — beg  pardon  —  you  are.  This  trip 
was  arranged,  sir,  with  reference  to  the  matter.  Gov. 
Magruder  and  Miss  Zeo  Buttolph  are  to  be  married  in  the 
spring.  His  plantation  joins  the  general's.  It  is  a  splen- 
did match.  Miss  Zeo  has  solidity  and  thorough  excellence, 
as  well  as  beauty ;  but  Miss  Irene  —  will  you  allow  me  to 
ask  what  you  think  of  her?  "  Mr.  Fanthorp  little  knew  how 
terribly  his  news  smote  upon  the  heart  of  the  other ;  but  he 
mastered  himself,  and  replied,  — 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  211 

"  I  think  what  everybody  thinks.  She  is  a  very  intelligent 
and  brilliant  woman.  I  have  rarely  known  one  of  more 
original  and  independent  opinions." 

"What  a  fine  performer  she  is!"  the  other  remarked, 
"  and  it  seems  to  me  as  if  she  had  read  every  thing.  I  dare 
say  at  home,  you  know,  out  of  company,  she  is  very  affec- 
tionate. A  devoted  daughter  and  sister?"  Mr.  Fanthorp 
rather  asked  it  than  gave  it  as  his  own  opinion,  somewhat 
anxiously  too,  and  examined  the  face  of  his  friend  keenly 
under  cover  of  his  cigar-smoke  as  he  said  it.  Mr.  Venable 
assented,  but  did  not  seem  disposed  to  pursue  the  subject. 

"  He  was  the  grandest  rascal ! "  Mr.  Fanthorp  added 
irrelevantly,  after  a  long  silence.  "  Do  you  know  that  scoun- 
drel has  gouged  —  I  suppose  you  know  what  that  means?  — 
the  general  out  of  thousands  of  dollars?  A  scoundrel  is 
invariably  a  fool.  Although,"  he  added  with  sudden  droll- 
ery of  manner,  "  a  fool  is  not  necessarily  a  scoundrel ;  now 
is  he,  sir?"  He  asked  it  very  innocently,  but  the  other 
colored  and  remained  silent.  This  was  Farce  Fanthorp, 
he  remembered. 

"  Of  whom  are  you  speaking?  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  Gen.  Buttolph's  overseer.  I  thought  you  knew,"  the 
other  replied,  opening  wide  his  eyes.  "  It  was  extremely 
reprehensible,"  he  continued  solemnly;  and  Mr.  Venable 
felt  rather  than  saw  that  his  companion  had  fallen  into  his 
old  trick  of  mimicking  the  one  he  conversed  with.  "I 
refer  to  the  overseer.  I  speak  with  regret  of  the  procedure 
adopted  to  make  him  disgorge.  I  am  a  saint,  and  would 
do  nothing  illegal  for  the  world.  I  am  exceedingly  careful  to 
know  nothing  whatever  about  it,  as  a  saint :  as  an  ordi- 
nary individual,  I  am  aware  that  he  is  held  in  the  hands 
of  Judge  Lynch  until  he  settles  up.  The  peculiarity  of  that 
court,  beloved  brethren,  lies  in  this,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  added, 
as  if  from  the  pulpit,  "  that  no  lawyer  is  allowed,  nor,  alas  ! 
is  the  gospel  or  habeas  corpus  recognized.  Yes,  we  are  in 


212  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

the  bayou  at  last."  He  added  this  in  his  own  manner,  his 
cigar  being  struck  from  his  mouth,  as  he  spoke,  by  the  leafy 
bough  of  a  tree  upon  the  bank. 

Sure  enough,  they  had  left  the  open  bay,  and  had  entered 
by  this  time  what  seemed  to  be  a  mere  ditch,  barely  wide 
enough  for  the  steamer  to  make  its  way  amid  the  overhang- 
ing forest.  There  was  water  enough  between  the  steep 
banks  to  float  a  man-of-war;  but  the  bayou  coiled  and 
turned  on  itself,  so  that  the  night  was  spent,  as  the  vessel 
steamed  slowly  along,  in  a  series  of  bumps,  now  on  one  side 
and  then  on  the  other ;  now  a  shock  as  the  bow  ran  into 
the  bank,  and  then  a  jar  more  violent  as  the  stem  crashed 
against  a  tree,  the  steamer  going  ahead  and  backing,  with 
the  almost  continuous  brushing  of  the  boughs  of  dense  foli- 
age upon  sides  and  roof. 

"  You  get  splendid  shots  at  alligators  if  you  stand  on  the 
bow,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  said.  "  Look  here  !  "  As  he  spoke, 
he  seized  with  a  quick  grasp  a  projecting  bough,  broke  it  off, 
and  handed  it  to  his  friend.  It  was  a  magnolia-branch, 
laden  with  the  glossy  leaves  and  superb  flowers  of  that  tree. 
The  air  had  long  been  burdened  by  the  overpowering  per- 
fume ;  and,  as  the  boat  urged  its  way  along,  the  banks  in  an 
arm's  length  on  either  side  seemed  a  wall  of  magnolia  leaves 
and  flowers,  towering  up  and  meeting  overhead.  It  was 
an  experience  to  the  new-comer  as  if  out  of  the  Arabian 
Nights. 

All  the  more  so,  as  Mr.  Fanthorp  took  occasion,  as  they 
sat,  to  reveal  to  him  pretty  much  every  thing  concerning 
which  he  had  been  almost  guiltily  ignorant.  The  lawyer  kept 
back  nothing,  —  the  desperate  condition  of  the  general's 
finances,  and  the  control  Zeo  had  assumed,  since  her  return, 
of  the  household  economy ;  the  "  devil  of  a  chap  "  Grit  had 
been,  as  Mr.  Fanthorp  phrased  it,  and  the  influence  she  had 
secured  over  him.  Nearly  everybody,  he  said,  knew  of  her 
father's  secret  drinking;  but  the  lawyer  had  contrived  in 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  213 

some  way  to  learn  of  his  daughter's  determined  efforts  to 
save  him,  and  imparted  all  he  knew ;  while  the  boat  pursued 
its  way. 

"  As  to  that  other  matter,"  he  continued,  lighting  another 
cigar,  "  that,  of  course  !  I  don't  look  at  it  as  you  do.  But 
Col.  Roland  is  a  wire-working  rascal,  and  the  governor  is  a 
first-class  fool ;  and  their  plans  are  something  worth  talking 
about,"  and  he  did  so  at  length. 

"  It  happens  very  well,"  he  added  at  last.  "  Old  Ugly  is 
rich,  and  it  will  be  a  help  to  her  father.  She  will  make  him 
a  good  wife.  The  governor  has  been  a  great  scamp  :  but 
he  is  desperately  in  love  with  her.  It  is  the  first  time  he 
ever  did  really  love  a  woman.  It  is  all  settled ;  they  will  be 
married  ;  you  will  get  a  big  fee,  Mr.  Venable,  —  in  gold,  sir  ! 
I'm  willing.  But  that  rascal  Roland  is  trying  to  marry  Miss 
Irene  :  I'll  break  his  neck  first !  Did  she  tell  you  about  the 
ridiculous  verses  she  got?  No?  That's  a  wonder.  You 
see,  I  wrote  them  in  his  style,  and  in  his  hand,  signed  his 
name  to  them,  and  sent  them  to  her,  —  best  thing  I  ever  did. 
If  you  will  excuse  me,  I'll  see  if  I  can't  find  her  somewhere ; 
and  if  you'll  sail  in  and  cut  Magruder  out,  Mr.  Venable, 
I'll  remember  you  in  my  will :  merely  for  the  devilment  of 
it,  you  know.  You'll  find  them  on  the  guards." 

Once  or  twice  after  that,  Mr.  Venable  tried  to  join  the 
ladies.  It  was  in  vain.  Mr.  Fanthorp  had  possession  now 
of,  and  was  laughing  with,  Irene  at  the  piano  ;  and  he  blun- 
dered next,  it  was  so  dark,  against  Gov.  Magruder  shielding 
Miss  Zeo  upon  the  guards  against  the  sweeping  foliage,  as  he 
made  a  desperate  effort  to  converse  with  her.  As  to  Gen. 
Buttolph,  taking  advantage  of  the  way  in  which  the  governor 
had  drawn  off  his  daughter,  he  had  immediately  after  sup- 
per locked  himself  up  in  his  stateroom. 

Mr.  Venable  did  not  enter  his  room  that  night,  although 
he  wanted  to  be  alone  ;  Grit  kept  him  close  company  during 
most  of  it,  as  he  wandered  about  the  boat.  At  last  they 


214  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

stood  together  at  the  stern.  With  a  firm  grasp  upon  Grit 
(who  had  become  greatly  attached  to  him),  lest  he  should 
fall  overboard,  he  wondered  at  the  way  in  which,  as  they 
advanced,  the  dense  foliage  and  the  denser  darkness  closed 
upon  them  behind.  Then,  inducing  his  companion  to  go 
to  bed,  he  climbed  upon  the  top  of  the  vessel,  and  lay  upon 
his  back  watching  the  volumes  of  smoke  and  sparks  rolling 
above  him  from  the  chimneys,  grasping  at  the  magnolia 
leaves  and  flowers  meeting  overhead,  and  almost  touching 
his  face  as  he  lay.  The  pulsation  of  the  engines  as  they 
compelled  the  vessel  on  its  course,  and  the  sharp  cough  of 
the  escape-pipes,  made  a  sort  of  rhythm,  the  boat  jarring  now 
upon  one  side  and  then  upon  the  other,  now  at  the  stem,  and 
then  at  the  stern,  as  it  forced  its  way  along. 

"  I  never  loved  a  woman  in  my  life,"  he  communed  with 
himself,  "  until  I  knew  her,  and  I  began  to  do  that  from  the 
moment  I  saw  her.  She  drew  me  to  her  by  her  silent  and 
beautiful  strength.  If  the  governor  has  a  power  of  attrac- 
tion, why  should  not  she  have,  and  as  much  stronger  than 
his  as  it  is  purer?  Gov.  Magruder  !  " 

When  the  family  had  come  aboard  the  Magnolia,  he  had 
stepped  forward  to  help  her  up  the  gangway ;  but  that  gentle- 
man had  interposed  in  a  nervous  manner.  "  Excuse  me,  Mr. 
Venable,"  he  had  said  very  politely:  "you  must  let  me  do 
that,  you  know  !  " 

"  No  wonder  she  prefers  him,"  he  groaned  now :  "  he  is 
so  light-hearted,  so  free  from  care  !  It  is  a  relaxation  to 
hear  him  laugh.  He  must  be  a  relief  to  her  under  the 
strain  of  her  duty.  But  I  can't  help  it.  I  must  go  on  lov- 
ing her,  as  I  must  go  on  hoping.  Her  sister  has  intellect ; 
but  her  beauty  is  deeper  still,  of  the  heart,  of  the  soul.  Her 
smiles  are  more  than  her  sister's  laughter,  the  little  she  says 
than  all  Irene's  sparkling  talk.  To  think  I  should  have  lived 
in  their  house  so  long,  and  have  learned  only  of  late  what  it 
was  in  her  which  attracted  and  held  me  even  when  I  under- 
stood it  as  little  as  I  did  ! 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"  Gov.  Magruder,  I  have  no  more  intention,"  he  said  at 
last,  and  getting  upon  his  feet  as  he  said  it,  "  of  giving  her 
up  to  you,  your  Excellency,  than  I  have  of  giving  up  my  life." 
And,  going  to  the  bow  of  the  boat,  he  stood  for  hours  look- 
ing forward  upon  what  seemed  an  impenetrable  barrier 
barring  them  back.  Behind  him  as  he  stood,  and  projecting 
from  the  deck  on  either  side,  were  iron  baskets  filled  with 
blazing  pine-knots  :  yet  even  when  the  light  from  these  was 
re-enforced  by  that  of  the  furnace-doors  thrown  open,  the 
lurid  glare  played  upon  what  appeared  to  be  a  compact 
wall  of  earth  and  forest.  Apparently  it  was  madness  to 
press  on. 

"  And  yet,"  he  said,  "  we  do  force  our  way  through  it. 
My  path  is  more  hopelessly  shut  to  me :  none  the  less,  I 
also  will  press  steadily  on." 


2l6  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IN   WHICH   IT   IS   SHOWN  THAT  ALL  THINGS    AT    A    SUGAR-PLAN- 
TATION  ARE  NOT  NECESSARILY   SWEET. 

EARLY  in  the  morning  the  Magnolia  landed  the  party  at 
Gen.  Buttolph's  plantation,  and  passed  on  to  Chema- 
raw,  the  city  higher  up  the  bayou  which  was  the  rival  of  St. 
Jerome.  The  house  was  a  huge  two-storied  wooden  building, 
standing  a  hundred  yards  back  from  the  high  bluff,  and  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  an  ample  porch.  It  had  not  been 
painted  for  a  long  time,  and  presented  a  mournful  appear- 
ance, overhung  as  it  was  also  with  gigantic  live-oaks 
bearded  with  gray  and  patriarchal  moss.  In  front  and  on 
either  side  had  been  flower-beds;  but  the  only  growths 
remaining  were  masses  of  bear-grass,  rows  of  bristling  bay- 
onet-plants, and  every  variety  of  the  cactus,  as  well  as  the 
invariable  oleanders,  ailanthus,  and  china-trees.  Behind  the 
mansion,  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  across  the  level  fields, 
were  the  negro-quarters,  a  village  of  log  cabins  in  rows ;  be- 
hind them  the  vast  shed-like  structure  and  towering  chimneys 
of  the  sugar-mills  ;  the  dense  foliage  of  a  cypress-swamp  mak- 
ing, in  the  distance,  a  background  for  it  all.  Although  Mr. 
Venable  was  of  Southern  birth,  this  was  his  first  visit  to  a 
sugar-plantation  ;  and,  fresh  from  the  excessive  activities  of  a 
colder  climate,  there  was  something  not  unpleasing  to  him 
in  the  air  of  languor  and  neglect,  in  the  drowsiness  and  mel- 
ancholy even,  which  rested  upon  the  whole  scene. 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

But  his  attention  was  diverted  from  this.  As  soon  as  the 
party  came  together  about  the  breakfast-table,  it  was  plain 
that  something  of  importance  was  on  hand. 

An  assumption  of  indifference  upon  the  part  of  most  of 
those  present  was  proof  of  that.  Gen.  Buttolph,  however, 
in  cordial  good-fellowship  with  every  one,  exerted  himself 
beyond  his  wont  to  entertain  Gov.  Magruder,  who  seemed 
least  at  his  ease  of  all.  Almost  wholly  uneducated,  leav- 
ing all  the  governing  to  Col.  Roland,  his  Excellency  had 
been  simply  the  best  fellow  going,  himself  the  j  oiliest  of  the 
jolly  crowd  which  constituted  the  majority  of  the  Legisla- 
ture, when  it  was  in  session.  Mr.  Venable  had  never 
envied  any  one,  not  the  grandest  preacher  he  had  ever 
heard,  as  much  as  he  did  this  florid-faced,  black-bearded, 
warm-handed  man,  whose  sympathetic  eyes  seemed  so 
deeply  interested  in  you  and  in  all  you  said. 

"  Ah,  if  I  had  that  magnetic  power  over  men  when  out 
of  the  pulpit,"  he  had  remarked  to  himself,  the  more  he  saw 
of  him,  "  what  I  said  in  it  would  have  tenfold  force."  But 
this  envied  man  was  shy  and  silent  at  breakfast,  blundering 
and  awkward,  on  which  account  Irene  Buttolph  responded 
the  more  eagerly  to  the  witticisms  of  Mr.  Fanthorp.  Her 
younger  sister  held,  as  usual,  the  head  of  the  table  opposite 
her  father.  "The  halo,"  Mr.  Venable  thought,  "which 
Mrs.  Chaffingsby  has  painted,  as  if  their  hair  was  on  fire, 
about  the  heads  of  her  characters,  is  not  a  myth.  This 
quiet  girl  wields  such  an  influence,  that  even  when  she  is 
most  passive  its  atmosphere  is  about  her.  His  Excellency 
is  little  more  than  a  sort  of  perfectly  good-humored  leopard, 
and  he  has  an  animal  instinct  of  her  strength :  her  eyes 
embarrass  him  as  those  of  a  human  being  do  even  a  lion. 
But  how  will  that  help  me? " 

He  could  not  but  notice  the  plainness  of  her  dress  in 
contrast  with  that  of  her  sister.  There  was  a  home  charm 
to  him  in  certain  cuffs  about  her  wrists,  as  she  handed  the 


2l8  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

coffee ;  in  a  species  of  snowy  frill  around  her  neck ;  in  the 
way  in  which  her  face,  sweet  yet  serious,  was  framed,  so  to 
speak,  in  her  plaited  hair. 

Grit  hastened  through  his  breakfast,  and  asked  her  permis- 
sion to  go  to  the  mill,  which  Zeo  granted  on  certain  condi- 
tions. 

"  The  idea,"  Irene  exclaimed,  "  of  his  asking  anybody  ! 
I  believe  that  you  have  absolutely  bewitched  that  boy,  Zeo. 
He  seems  to  have  put  his  soul  into  your  hands.  He  follows 
you  about,  and  minds  you,  more  like  a  dog  than  a  boy."  All 
that  Zeo  said  in  return  —  but  it  was  not  said  aloud  —  was, 
"  O  God,  give  me  my  father  too  !  I  hardly  hoped  that  God 
could  give  Grit  to  me,  he  was  so  bad.  Now  that  he  has,  I 
know  he  will  give  me  my  father,  —  I  know  it,  I  know  it  j "  and 
she  was  literally  as  happy  as  a  queen,  because  she  was  one. 

"  They  don't  want  us,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  said,  as  he  and  Mr. 
Venable  strolled  out  of  the  house  after  breakfast.  "  The 
governor  makes  his  formal  proposition  to-day.  Any  one 
could  tell  that  by  the  way  he  made  a  fool  of  himself  just 
now.  That  is  the  strangest  thing  about  Magruder  :  he  is  the 
life  and  soul  of  a  crowd"  until  he  gets  on  the  stump.  Once 
up  to  make  a  speech,  he  hums  and  haws  and  blunders  and 
breaks  down  :  he  is  worse  at  it  than  Phip  Quatty.  He  knew 
enough,  at  last,  never  to  try  again.  The  governor  is  a  splen- 
did fellow;  but,"  added  the  lawyer  in  his  droll  manner, 
"  bless  my  soul,  humph,  ah  ! 

"  Dearly  beloved  brethren,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  continued,  with 
an  oratorical  outspreading  of  his  hands  to  an  astonished 
group  of  negro  children  in  shirts  and  nothing  else,  before 
whom  he  paused  as  they  lounged  along,  "  our  friend  the 
ex-executive  is  rich,  in  fact,  he  owns  boat-loads  of  you  ;  and 
he  is  the  j  oiliest  fellow  breathing.  But  I  must  not,  beloved, 
can  not,  will  not,  soil  the  snowy  purity  of —  I  look  deeper 
than  your  linen  —  your  souls,  by  intimating  wherein  that 
individual  is  a  sinner.  The  congregation  is  dismissed  with 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  2IQ 

an  urgent  request  to  wash  itself.  Amen.  Get  out,  you  little 
rascals  !  "  with  a  sudden  spring  among  his  dusky  audience, 
which  scattered  them  with  streaming  shirt-tails  to  the  winds. 

"  You  will  excuse  my  taking  you  off,"  he  began. 
"    "  It  was  not  a  bit  like  me,"  Mr.  Venable  said  indignantly. 

"  You  think  not  ?  Well,  never  mind ;  but  I  have  two 
excellent  reasons  for  being  in  spirits  to-day.  One  reason 
lies  that  way :  "  the  lawyer  said  it  with  a  backward  gesture 
of  his  head  to  the  house  they  were  leaving.  "  The  other 
reason  lies  yonder,"  pointing  toward  the  swamp  bounding 
the  plantation  in  the  rear. 

"  Did  you  ever  read  of  Antigone?  "  his  companion  asked, 
after  a  while,  as  they  walked  over  the  fields  which  were  being 
ploughed  by  gangs  of  negroes. 

"  Aunt  Tiggony  ?  A  relative  of  yours  ?  Oh  !  you  mean 
some  black  aunty,"  Mr.  Fan  thorp  said,  with  serious  and 
respectful  manner.  "Have  I?  Of  course  I  did,"  he  said, 
growing  serious  by  ceasing  to  be  solemn.  "  At  college,"  he 
added.  "  Yes,  Miss  Zeo  is  that.  But  the  marble  grandeur 
of  the  Greek  girl  leading  about  her  miserable  father,  blind 
and  doomed,  lay  in  her  doing  so  not  alone  merely,  but  in 
defiance  of  her  gods.  Medea,  Alcestis,  Electra,  and  the 
rest  are  not  to  be  compared  to  her." 

"  I  am  glad,"  the  other  said  eagerly,  "  to  know  that  you 
are  a  scholar.  Except  Col.  Roland,  you  are  the  first  I  have 
met ;  and  he  is  so  —  so  "  — 

"Perfectly  a  fool,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  supplemented.  "To 
think  of  a  fellow  at  his  years — two  hundred  and  fifty  at 
least  —  sending  bouquets  and  verses  and  making  love  to 
young  girls!  That  man,"  the  lawyer  added,  "is  the  most 
beautiful,  yes,  and  powerful  writer  in  the  State.  He  does 
very  well  in  a  parlor ;  and  yet  he  could  not  get  a  vote  for  a 
State  office,  to  save  his  life.  The  people  have  as  little  use 
for  him  as  they  have  for  that  silk- weed ;  "  and  he  pointed  to 
the  plant  so  named,  which  was  waving  its  glossy  and  abun- 


22O  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

dant  silk  streamers  about  the  decaying  stumps  and  fallen 
logs  near  by ;  nothing  more  beautiful  or  more  useless. 

"What  I  wanted  to  say,"  his  companion  added,  "was 
that  the  Greek  Cordelia  —  for  the  Antigone  is  that  —  is  too 
marble-like.  I  can  imagine  a  woman,  and  a  very  young 
woman,  as  much  superior  to  Antigone  as  Christianity  is  to 
Paganism.  Imagine  a  mere  girl  caring  in  her  loving  weak- 
ness for  the  soul  of  her  wretched  father,  too,  trying  to  save 
him  from  deadlier  foes  than  those  of  CEdipus  "  — 

"Excuse  me,"  Mr.  Fan  thorp  interrupted;  "but  bother 
Antigone,  and,  if  they  will  allow  me,"  lifting  his  hat  to  them 
in  their  absence,  "  the  ladies  also  !  This,  you  see,  is  the 
mill.  It  is  nothing  but  a  warehouse  with  tall  chimneys, 
huge  kettles,  furnaces,  iron  pipes,  and  the  like.  Yonder  is 
the  press.  That  heap  of  white  stuff  is  what  is  left  of  the 
Begasse,  the  sugar-canes  with  the  juice  crushed  out ;  they 
burn  it  for  fuel,  you  know.  —  Hallo,  Plenty,  come  here  !  " 

They  had  entered  the  mill,  and  Mr.  Venable  recognized 
young  Plenty  as  he  now  approached  them,  his  old  grand- 
father tottering  behind  him,  feebler  than  ever. 

"When  the  general — it  was  Miss  Zeo's  doing  —  put  this 
plantation  in  my  hands,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  explained,  "  I  ac- 
cepted it  on  condition  he  gave  me  young  Plenty  as  foreman. 
He  manages,  and  goes  and  comes  between  here  and  St. 
Jerome.  Have  they  got  through,  boy?"  he  asked  signifi- 
cantly. But  the  old  negro  had  put  himself  between  his 
stalwart  grandson  and  the  speaker,  and  replied  promptly,  — 

"  Hush  up,  child  !  You  hold  your  tongue  !  Lemme  talk 
to  the  gentleman.  —  Ah,  dat's  a  missable  business,  Mars 
Fanthorp.  No,  sah ;  I  wouldn't  let  him  cowhide  dat  man. 
I  wouldn't  let  him,  nebber,  sah,  nebber  !  "  and  the  old  soul, 
his  trembling  hand  on  his  son's  broad  and  naked  shoulder, 
drew  himself  up  with  a  sort  of  decayed  dignity,  holding  his 
white  head  as  erect  as  he  could. 

"  They  wanted  him  to  do  it  ?    That's  too  bad.  —  But,  you 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  221 

old  ghost,  you  bothersome  old  codger,"  the  lawyer  added, 
"  what  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  " 

"  I  is  from  Firginny,  sah.  Dis  poor  boy  was  only  born  in 
St.  Jerome." 

"Look  here,"  the  lawyer  said  to  Mr.  Venable,  "do  you 
see  this  great,  strapping  boy?  He  manages  the  two  hun- 
dred hands  on  this  place.  See  what  a  head  he  has.  Forty 
years  old  he  is  too.  —  I  say,  you ! "  he  added,  turning 
suddenly  upon  the  man,  "why  do  you  let  the  old  fellow 
follow  you  about  —  I  know  he  only  does  it  before  the  white 
folks  —  as  if  you  were  a  baby?  What  do  you  mean?"  he 
asked,  with  an  accent  like  the  crack  of  a  whip. 

"  Lor,  massa  ! "  replied  the  younger  negro,  confronting 
the  lawyer,  with  a  smile  all  over  his  face,  "  my  Lor,  massa, 
as  if  you  don't  understand.  He  is  my  gran1  fader  !  " 

"  Go  to  thunder  ! "  Mr.  Fanthorp  said ;  and,  turning  away 
as  he  gave  a  key  to  the  man  who  had  spoken,  he  added, 
"  No  spirits,  Plenty  (there's  the  smoke-house  key)  ;  but  you 
may  cut  as  much  tobacco  for  you  both  as  you  like,  a  hogs- 
head if  you  want,  when  I  am  gone.  —  This  way,  Mr.  Vena- 
ble." So  saying,  his  friend  led  his  companion  into  the  other 
half  of  the  huge  warehouse.  "Be  careful,"  he  said;  for 
there  was  no  floor,  the  visitors  having  to  step  from  joist  to 
joist  upon  which  scores  of  hogsheads  of  sugar  were  stand- 
ing, molasses  dripping  from  each  into  a  dirty  lake  of  the 
same  below.  " That  is  the  sugar,"  he  added.  "This,  when 
it  has  gone  through  its  chemistry,  and  been  ladled  into  bar- 
rels, is  the  sirup,  and  that  is  all.  It  does  not  look  very  nice, 
and  rats,  mice,  cockroaches,  and  yellow-jackets  don't  im- 
prove it :  anyhow,  there  is  a  mint  of  money  in  it,  I  tell  you. 
Now,  I've  got  to  go  with  Plenty  here,  and  see  to  things.  If 
you  want  to  learn  a  page  in  human  nature  " — 

"  Excuse  me,"  the  other  said  to  his  quick- motioned,  mer- 
curial companion,  "  but  what  was  it  the  old  man  would  not 
allow  the  other  to  do?  Whip  somebody,  was  it  not?  " 


222  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"Whip  somebody?"  the  lawyer  exclaimed,  with  wide- 
open  eyes.  "  Whip !  Bless  me,  whom  ?  I  haven't  the 
slightest  idea.  What  a  remarkable  mistake  !  But  if  you 
would  like  to  understand  human  nature  —  do  you  see  that 
belt  of  live-oak?"  pointing  to  the  cypress- swamp  which 
bounded  the  sugar-field.  "  Go  down  there.  You  are  not 
armed  ?  Oh,  of  course  not !  But,  remember  distinctly,  I 
don't  know  any  thing  about  any  thing  in  the  world.  Good- 
by.  Take  care  of  yourself.  I  can't  be  always  with  you  ;  " 
this  last  being  the  formula  of  parting  current  among  jocose 
people  just  then  and  there. 

It  was  half  an  hour's  walk,  a  tiresome  one,  over  the  newly- 
ploughed  ground  and  growing  cane  ;  but  Mr.  Venable  was  not 
sorry  to  be  alone.  His  meditations  were  perplexing  enough  ; 
and  he  was  glad  to  have  them  scattered,  as  he  walked,  by  a 
sudden  peal  of  laughter  from  the  wood,  toward  which  he 
had  now  drawn  near, — the  laughter  of  a  crowd. 

Halting  a  while,  and  then  getting  within  the  curtain  of 
hanging  live-oak  limbs  draped  with  heavy  moss,  he  came  on 
a  sight  which  held  him  to  the  spot  with  horror.  Twenty  men 
or  more  were  seated  or  standing  around  a  poor  wretch, 
whose  face  was  from  him,  whose  only  clothing  was  his 
trousers,  and  whose  hands  were  tied  behind  him.  It  was 
the  overseer  of  whom  Mr.  Fanthorp  had  spoken ;  and  the 
men  composed  the  court  of  Judge  Lynch,  who  was  repre- 
sented by  a  white-headed  old  reprobate  seated  upon  what 
appeared  to  be  a  pile  of  dirty  boxes.  The  man  had  been 
beaten  severely,  but  this  had  failed  to  draw  any  confession 
from  him.  A  rope  was  around  his  neck,  the  other  end 
passed  over  the  limb  of  a  live-oak  overhead,  and  held  in 
the  hands  of  some  of  the  men.  By  drawing  him  up  until 
almost  strangled,  and  then  lowering  him,  they  had  extorted 
from  the  miserable  man,  and  box  by  box,  the  hiding-place 
of  his  plunder,  which  year  after  year  he  had  buried  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  spot  upon  which  he  was  being  tor- 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  223 

tured;  for,  with  criminal  indolence,  the  general  had  long 
given  over  the  plantation  and  its  crops  into  his  hands. 

The  intruder  only  saw  a  victim  in  the  grasp  of  his  cruel 
enemies.  One  moment  of  horror,  and  then  he  was  amazed 
at  the  fury,  as  of  a  tiger,  in  him.  At  a  bound  this  wild 
beast  suddenly  born  within  him  carried  him  among  the  men. 

"You  scoundrels,"  he  found  himself  saying,  his  lips 
parched,  his  wild  hands  clutching  at  the  ropes  which  held 
the  prisoner,  "  how  dare  you  !  "  Every  man  had  sprung  to 
his  feet,  no  man  without  a  rifle  or  revolver.  There  was  a 
moment's  pause,  while,  still  plucking  at  the  ropes,  he  looked 
at  them  with  desperate  face  and  as  if  in  a  dream.  The  men 
were  not  regarding  him  so  much  as  glancing  over  his  head 
and  beyond  for  those  who  might  be  following.  Then,  to 
his  astonishment,  there  was  a  sudden,  unanimous,  and  hearty 
burst  of  laughter.  He  could  see  that  every  man  of  the  rough 
set  of  poor  whites  (for  he  knew  they  were  that  at  a  glance) 
had  sheathed  his  revolver  again,  or  lowered  his  gun,  and 
was  laughing  with  a  sense  of  amusement  too  evidently 
heart-felt  not  to  be  genuine. 

"  My  friend,"  the  intruder  said,  somewhat  dampened  as 
well  as  bewildered,  "who  —  why  —  what"  —  and  he  laid 
his  hand  upon  the  naked  shoulders  of  the  victim  from  be- 
hind. 

"  Oh,  get  out !  Go  along  with  you  !  "  the  man  yelled,  with 
a  curse,  snarling  at  him  over  his  shoulder,  and  giving  a 
vicious  kick  at  him  backward.  "  If  you  had  come  before,  it 
would  'a'  been  some  good  !  Now,"  with  a  frightful  oath, 
"  get  out !  "  Upon  which  there  was  another  storm  of  laugh- 
ter, which,  it  seemed  to  the  new-comer,  could  have  been 
heard  for  miles. 

"  And  now,  boys,"  said  the  grizzly-headed  old  rascal  who 
seemed  to  be  the  leader,  wiping  the  tears  of  mirth  from  his 
eyes,  "  to  conclude  this  here  camp-meeting  with  a  benedic- 
tion, this  here  honorable  Court  orders  that  the  pris'ner  be 
packed  off  on  the  Nautilus  on  her  next  trip." 


224  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"On  the  what!  "  roared  the  man.  There  was  a  horror 
in  his  tones,  a  genuineness  in  his  dismay,  which  brought 
down  the  audience  in  another  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Gentlemen,"  Judge  Lynch  said,  when  the  fun  had  slack- 
ened, "  this  overseer  has  had  his  voice,  plenty  of  it,  and 
mighty  loud  it  was,  in  these  here  proceedings.  No  man 
wants  his  views  about  that  old  and  highly-respected  boat. 
We've  had  to  scare  that  money  out  of  him,  inch  by  inch  to 
the  spot  where  he  hid  it,  and  dollar  by  dollar  then.  But 
we've  got  it  about  all ;  "  and,  to  indicate  the  whereabouts  of 
the  money,  as  he  spoke  he  rose  up  and  sat  down  again  with 
emphasis  on  the  heap  of  boxes  upon  which  he  had  been 
seated,  and  which  from  their  muddy  appearance  had  evi- 
dently been  just  dug  up  out  of  the  earth.  "  Thousings  on 
thousings  in  here  he  had  chiselled  Gen.  Buttolph  out  of, 
going  on  for  six  years  now,  besides  his  other  rascalities  you 
hearn  him  confess.  Mind,  the  general  don't  know,  and 
Lawyer  Fanthorp  'specially  is  not  to  know,  any  thing  of  all 
this.  Bundle  him  off  until  the  committee  can  start.  'Nuf 
said.  If  the  prisoner  will  sing  a  hymn  we'll  be  dismissed." 

It  was  near  dinner-time  before  Mr.  Venable,  hunting 
everywhere  for  the  lawyer,  succeeded  in  finding  him  upon 
the  other  side  of  the  plantation.  "  It  is  so  very  much  the 
easiest  way,"  that  gentleman  replied,  at  the  close  of  their 
conversation.  "Of  course  I  never  dreamed  of  such  an 
outrage,  knew  nothing  about  it  whatever ;  but  it  saved  years 
of  time,  years  on  years  of  lawsuits,  and  one  never  gets  the 
money  then.  I  tell  you  it  was  a  haul"  he  added.  "I 
had  no  idea  he  had  gone  into  the  general  to  that  extent ;  " 
for  Mr.  Venable  had  found  the  lawyer,  when  he  did  find 
him  at  last,  in  conference  with  the  leader  of  the  lynchers. 
"This  sugar-making  is  all  gambling,  any  way,"  he  added. 
"  However,  we've  saved  the  general  this  time,  anyhow. 
But,  bless  you,"  with  the  face  of  a  sabbath-school  scholar, 
"  I  knew  nothing  about  it ! " 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  22$ 


CHAPTER  XXL 

MR.   VENABLE   VIOLATES  THE   PROPRIETIES. 

AS  the  successful  manager  of  Gen.  Buttolph's  plantation, 
Mr.  Farce  Fanthorp  felt  himself  justified  in  the  en- 
joyment of  unlimited  fun  among  the  whites,  as  he  did  of  un- 
bounded energy  among  the  blacks.  In  his  own  estimation, 
at  least,  his  business  qualification  gave  weight  and  authority 
to  his  humor,  as  it  certainly  did  a  new  license  to  his  au- 
dacity. 

"  As  sure  as  you  live,"  he  remarked  to  Mr.  Venable,  the 
day  after  the  lynching,  "Roland  will  come  up  from  St. 
Jerome  very  soon.  He  has  become  so  used  to  controlling 
Old  Ugly,  and  Old  Ugly  has  become  so  used  to  being  con- 
trolled, that,  especially  at  this  crisis,  they  cannot  live  apart. 
How  I  hate  him  !  " 

True  enough,  the  colonel  did  arrive  two  days  later,  bring- 
ing with  him  quite  an  odor  of  civilization  in  his  toilet,  his 
poetry,  and  his  devotion  to  the  ladies.  The  instinctive  aver- 
sion between  the  lawyer  and  himself  was  intensified  by  their 
rivalry  in  reference  to  Miss  Irene.  While  the  colonel  de- 
fended himself  with  contempt  as  with  a  shield,  his  enemy 
resorted  to  his  "  buffoonery,"  as  the  other  styled  it,  as  natur- 
ally as  a  wild-cat  does  to  its  claws  or  a  fox  to  its  cunning. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Col.  Roland  endeavored  to  make  him- 
self heard  at  the  dinner-table.  He  had  begun,  for  instance, 
to  speak  of  the  hardness  of  the  times,  of  the  expedients  tp 


226  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

which  men  had  to  resort  in  business,  when  his  adversary 
broke  in,  — 

"  You  are  right,  Roland,  finance  is  the  most  intricate  of 
sciences.  A  few  weeks  ago  I  had  given  so  largely  to  chari- 
table objects  as  to  be  sadly  reduced.  I  could  not  help  my- 
self from  the  public  treasury  as  you  could  do,  Roland. 
I  will  tell  you  what  I  did  do ;  "  and  with  a  grave  face  Mr. 
Fanthorp  detailed  at  length  how,  when  he  had  applied  to 
his  father  in  a  distant  State  by  letter  for  aid,  and  had  been 
refused,  he  wrote  to  him  in  a  feigned  hand  and  over  an- 
other name  a  full  account  of  his  own  death.  In  affecting 
terms  he  told  him  of  the  brilliant  promise  of  his  son,  of 
the  universal  estimation  in  which  he  was  held,  of  his  last 
and  fatal  illness,  of  his  dying  messages,  of  the  funeral, 
when  St.  Jerome  in  tears  followed  him  to  the  grave  :  he 
detailed  seriously  and  at  length. 

"In  a  postscript  I  incidentally  mentioned,"  he  added, 
"  that  friends  had  been  to  some  expense,  but  that  I  would 
not  press  the  subject  upon  the  afflicted  father.  By  return 
mail  I  received  a  handsome  check  from  "  — 

"  I  do  not  see,  sir,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  not  sharing  the 
laughter  which  followed  by  reason  of  the  narrator's  manner 
of  telling  the  story,  "  how  you  could  so  wantonly  distress 
your  father." 

"  It  did  not  distress  him.  The  check  was  my  only  com- 
fort," Mr  Fanthorp  replied  with  a  sad  face,  "  when  I  saw 
how  cheerfully  my  venerated  father  sent  it." 

He  had  told  the  truth  :  every  one  knew  it  was  but  one  of 
many  freaks  of  the  kind.  But  Mr.  Venable  was  glad  to 
catch  the  eye  of  Miss  Zeo  at  the  moment,  and  to  know 
that  she  found  as  little  fun  in  the  trick  as  he  did ;  and  the 
conversation  changed. 

For  a  day  or  two  the  gentlemen  rambled  over  the  planta- 
tion, hunting  in  the  swamp,  lounging  about  the  mills, — • 
all  except  Col.  Roland,  who  devoted  himself  to  the  sisters. 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  22/ 

Mr.  Venable  found  himself  watching  the  governor  closely. 
The  ex-magistrate  was  evidently  very  much  in  love  with  his 
charming  hostess,  but  it  was  not  in  her  company  that  he 
enjoyed  himself  most.  He  was  always  eager,  instead,  to  get 
out  of  doors ;  and  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  walking  about 
among  the  negroes,  leaning  against  a  fence  chatting  with 
his  friends,  he  was  an  excellent  listener,  himself  full  of 
anecdote  of  his  experiences  in  city  and  country :  a  better 
companion  could  not  be  desired.  The  instant  the  cigar 
was  thrown  away,  however,  and  he  entered  the  presence  of 
the  ladies,  the  light  died  from  his  fine  eyes,  the  laughter 
from  his  lip  :  it  was  as  if  he  were  in  church  or  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  dead.  Possibly  Col.  Roland  had  tutored  him 
too  much. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Magruder,"  the  colonel  said  to  him  at 
every  opportunity.  "  You  blush  and  stammer  so  that  no 
modest  woman  can  persist  in  talking  to  you,  man." 

"  Look  here,  Roland,"  the  other  always  replied,  "  you 
know  how  I've  lived  all  my  life  on  my  place,  among  my 
negroes.  And  you  know  whether  I  am  popular  with  those 
chaps  in  the  Legislature,  among  people  generally.  But  the 
moment  you  box  me  up  in  a  parlor  with  such  a  lady  as  that ! 
I  ain't  afraid;  but  don't  you  suppose  I  know  what  a 
scamp  "  — 

"  Don't  be  a  booby,  or  a  baby,  Magruder,"  was  the,  text 
from  which  his  Mentor  discoursed  to  him  continually. 

One  day  the  question  came  up  at  table,  as  to  what  was 
the  noblest  virtue ;  and  as  the  conclusion  was  reached  by 
Mr.  Fanthorp,  who  did  most  of  the  talking,  that  it  was  cour- 
age, Miss  Zeo  said,  — 

"  Grit,  my  brother  Theodore  I  mean,  told  me,  as  we  sat 
down,  of  a  cowardly  thing.  I  do  not  think  my  father  knows 
of  it.  Some  low  characters  tied  up  our  overseer,  he  says, 
and  whipped  him  terribly.  It  was  an  outrage,"  she  added 
with  glowing  cheeks  :  "  it  was  a  mean  and  dastardly  thing. 


228  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

—  Mr.  Fanthorp,"  she  said  in  such  tones  as  to  arrest  every 
ear,  "  have  you  heard  of  this?  " 

"The  overseer  !  Whip  an  overseer ?  No,  MissZeo,"  Mr. 
Fanthorp  said  with  apparent  astonishment.  "  I  knew  that  he 
had  left ;  but  whip  a  white  man  ?  It  is  impossible  !  —  I 
hope,"  he  said  to  his  host,  "that  you  will  allow  me  to 
search  the  matter  out.  Whip  a  white  man  !  It  is  the  first 
I  have  heard  of  it." 

"  I  am  astonished  at  you,  Zeo,"  her  sister  said.  "  Let  us 
talk  about  something  else.  —  Well,  Mr.  Venable,  what  do  you 
think  is  the  noblest  virtue? " 

"Truth,  Miss  Irene,"  he  said,  "truth!"  He  was  aware 
that  the  emphasis  in  his  tones  and  face  added  force  to  his 
reply.  "  Nobody  has  been  whipped,"  Gen.  Buttolph  said, 
in  the  awkward  silence  which  followed.  "  The  scoundrel  Zeo 
speaks  of  had  swindled  me.  Fanthorp  found  it  out,  made 
the  fellow  disgorge,  and  he  has  fled  :  that  is  all.  —  You  are 
right,  Mr.  Venable  :  a  liar  is  a  coward.  Have  some  more 
venison."  But  that  gentleman  was  aware  thereafter  of  a 
curious  coldness  toward  him,  on  the  part  of  Miss  Irene 
again,  as  once  before ;  as  well  as  of  an  increased  cordiality 
upon  the  part  of  Col.  Roland  and  Gov.  Magruder.  To  his 
gratification,  Miss  Zeo  directed  her  conversation  to  him 
during  the  rest  of  the  meal.  But  Mr.  Fanthorp  never  was 
more  at  his  ease ;  and  when  they  went  into  the  parlor  he 
favored  them,  Miss  Irene  accompanying  him  upon  the  piano, 
with  several  of  his  most  amusing  songs. 

When  Mr.  Venable  first  arrived  in  St.  Jerome,  he  was  pale 
and  thin  from  years  of  seclusion  —  as  has  been  said  —  and 
hard  study ;  but  all  that  was  gone.  Like  a  plant  removed 
from  a  winter  cellar  into  midsummer  sunshine,  he  had  devel- 
oped in  health  and  strength  until  he  hardly  knew  himself  in 
his  glass,  and  his  difficulty  now  was  to  hold  himself  in  due 
bounds.  The  last  afternoon  of  their  stay  on  the  plantation, 
the  party  were  seated  under  the  live-oaks,  some  playing 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  22Q 

chess  upon  a  rustic  table,  the  rest  conversing,  when  Col. 
Roland  remarked,  that,  with  the  permission  of  their  host,  a 
basket  of  choice  champagne  had  been  sent  him  by  that 
morning's  boat  from  St.  Jerome.  He  had  been  able  to  show 
one  of  the  custom-house  officers  a  little  political  favor,  and 
this  was  the  result. 

"I  wonder  if  it  is  the  only  result?  "  Mr.  Fanthorp  solilo- 
quized aloud,  in  a  thoughtful  manner,  stroking  his  chin  as 
he  did  so ;  but  Zeo  had  uttered  an  exclamation  at  the 
mention  of  the  wine,  and  Mr.  Venable  caught  the  look  of 
distress  in  her  eyes.  "  Gov.  Magruder  was  about  telling  us 
of  his  accident,"  Col.  Roland  said ;  "  and  his  mention  of 
whiskey  as  a  remedy  for  the  bite  of  a  snake  reminded  me  of 
the  wine.  Go  on,  governor,  go  on  :  the  wine  can  wait." 

In  much  briefer  fashion  than  if  the  ladies  had  been  absent, 
the  governor  told  of  being  bitten,  and  healed  in  the  way 
spoken  of.  Next  Gen.  Buttolph  narrated  the  sufferings  of 
one  of  his  brothers,  who  had  also  been  bitten.  He  had 
often  told  the  story :  it  had  been  a  tragic  event,  and  he 
related  it  with  great  feeling,  for,  there  being  no  remedy  in 
reach,  his  brother  had  expired  in  agony. 

"  It  was  terrible,"  Col.  Roland  said,  as  he  ended ;  "  but 
suppose  we  have  some  of  that  champagne,  general?"  and 
the  hamper  was  brought  out  and  opened. 

"  Your  story  reminds  me,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  "  of  another 
event,  so  terrible  that  I  never  like  to  mention  it,  and  it  was 
of  my  only  brother ;  "  and,  as  the  wine  was  poured  out,  he 
proceeded  to  speak  of  his  brother,  his  appearance,  his  talent, 
his  noble  qualities.  The  grief  of  his  life  came  back  afresh 
upon  him,  as  he  told  of  the  honors  taken  by  this  brother, 
who  was  many  years  his  senior,  when  at  college ;  of  the 
pride  of  his  parents  in  him.  Under  other  circumstances  he 
would  not  have  alluded  to  the  matter ;  but  with  Miss  Zeo 
watching  her  father  covertly  under  her  drooped  lids,  he  went 


23O  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

into  details  of  his  last  hours,  and  even  of  the  death  of  his 
broken-hearted  mother,  and  afterward  of  his  father,  in  con- 
sequence. His  father  had  been  ruined  in  money  matters  also 
by  the  death  of  his  gifted  son ;  for  after  that  he  gave  up  in 
despair  all  effort  as  well  as  all  hope. 

The  soul  of  the  narrator  was  in  his  words,  his  own  eyes 
also  were  moist :  he  could  not  restrain  himself.  An  unopened 
bottle  stood  at  his  elbow ;  and  to  one  side  of  him  was  an 
artificial  mound  of  stones,  upon  the  summit  of  which  grew 
a  flowering  cactus.  Among  the  stones  he  had  observed  one 
of  the  huge  ammonites,  common  to  that  region,  —  a  petri- 
fied shell  larger  than  a  dinner-plate,  and  very  heavy.  As  he 
closed  his  narrative,  yielding  to  the  impulse,  he  said  to  Col. 
Roland,  — 

"  May  I  have  this  bottle,  sir?  " 

"  Certainly,"  the  other  replied  with  surprise. 

"You  spoke  of  the  bite  of  a  rattlesnake,  general,"  he 
added,  "  and  of  your  brother's  death.  It  was  this  reptile, 
sir,  this  !  which  killed  my  brother  and  my  parents  ;  "  as  he 
said  it  he  arose,  tossed  the  bottle  to  the  earth  on  one  side ; 
and,  as  if  it  were  a  venomous  serpent,  he  crushed  it  to  atoms 
under  the  ammonite.  It  was  done  in -an  instant,  and  with 
an  intensity  of  feeling  which  thrilled  every  one. 

"  I  trust  you  will  excuse  me,"  he  said,  quieting  himself  as 
he  took  his  seat ;  "  I  never  told  the  story  before :  but  the 
impulse  was  too  strong  to  be  resisted,"  and  he  hastened,  as 
soon  as  possible,  to  change  the  conversation.  Not  even  Mr. 
Fanthorp  proposed  to  open  another  bottle ;  and  when  Mr. 
Venable  glanced  at  Miss  Zeo  she  seemed  to  be  awaiting  his 
eyes,  and,  although  he  had  not  thought  of  her  while  speak- 
ing, the  look  in  hers  was  more  to  him  than  any  wine  could 
have  been. 

There  seemed  something  opportune  when,  soon  after,  a 
peal  of  thunder  warned  them  to  seek  the  house,  and  the 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  23! 

sultry  day  culminated  in  a  down-pour  of  rain.  The  ladies 
hastened  to  their  apartments,  their  father  suggesting  that  the 
rest  should  smoke  their  cigars  in  the  billiard-room  of  the 
rambling  old  mansion. 

An  hour  after,  Mr.  Fanthorp  loitered  into  the  parlor  at 
the  other  end  of  the  house,  where  Mr.  Venable  was  seated 
reading. 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Venable,"  he  said  to  him,  "  do  you 
know  you  called  me  a  liar  at  the  dinner-table  ?  " 

The  other  laid  aside  his  book,  and  arose.  "  You  know  the 
facts  of  the  case,"  he  said  coolly. 

"And  meant  I  was  a  coward?  " 

"  Precisely,"  his  companion  assented. 

"  And  in  the  presence  of  ladies  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  declare,"  the  lawyer  said  in  a  thoughtful  manner,  "  I 
never  was  more  perplexed  what  to  do.  If  it  were  Roland  or 
Magruder  I  would  know,  of  course.  You  are  a  minister, 
you  see :  it  is  that  has  kept  me  bothering  over  it  so  long. 
How  would  it  do  for  you  to  make  an  apology  at  table  ?  " 

"  It  would  not  do  at  all."  Mr.  Venable  could  not  refrain 
from  laughing  as  he  said  it,  the  other  was  so  sincerely  per- 
plexed. 

"  I  had  thought,"  the  lawyer  said,  looking  up  at  the  other, 
who  stood  tall  and  vigorous  before  him,  "of  taking  this 
secluded  opportunity  of  slapping  you." 

"You  can  try  it,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  with  good-humor, 
but  closing  his  right  hand  as  he  did  so. 

"I  never  was  so  perplexed,"  said  his  whimsical  antago- 
nist. "  Can't  you  advise  a  fellow?  " 

But  there  was  a  sound  of  steps  at  this  moment ;  and  the 
two  men,  themselves  hidden  by  the  curtains,  glanced  out 
upon  the  back  porch.  It  was  Irene  and  her  sister ;  Irene 
laughing  and  talking  eagerly  after  a  little  nap  in  her  room. 


222  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

Suddenly,  as  the  two  men  looked  out,  themselves  unob- 
served, they  saw  that  her  eye  fell  upon  Iphigenia,  stealing 
through  the  rain ;  and  Mr.  Venable  was  rooted  to  the  spot 
with  amazement.  With  eyes  and  face  blazing  with  wrath, 
she  sprang,  at  the  sight,  from  the  porch,  and  smote  the 
girl  furiously  in  the  face  with  her  open  palms,  hissing  at  her 
and  spitting  upon  her  in  the  extremity  of  her  fury,  and  then 
bursting,  as  she  stood  over  the  cowering  wretch,  into  an 
agony  of  weeping.  The  gentlemen  hastened  to  drop  the 
curtain,  and  conceal  themselves ;  but  not  until  they  caught 
sight  of  Zeo,  her  firm  grasp  on  the  arm  of  her  sister,  her 
face  set  and  stern  but  very  calm  in  comparison.  She  was 
pointing  toward  the  negro-quarters,  and  she  was  saying 
something  as  she  stooped  over  the  girl.  The  crouching 
creature  lifted  her  face  toward  her  young  mistress.  All  the 
burning  coal,  so  to  speak,  had  gone  out  into  the  ashes  of 
her  face,  and  her  eyes,  large  and  wondering  like  those  of  a 
doe,  were  fastened  upon  those  of  the  younger  sister.  Then, 
with  her  head  held  down,  and  as  if  obeying  a  command, 
she  ran  with  naked  feet  through  the  rain,  and  disappeared. 

"  What  a  splendid  woman  she  is  !  "  Mr.  Fanthorp  said, 
and  in  a  low  tone,  as  they  drew  back.  "  Beautiful  is  no 
word  for  it.  It  was  grand.  A  perfect  picture  !  I  wouldn't 
have  missed  it  for  a  pretty  !  " 

"  It  is  a  revelation  —  like  that  of  the  angel  at  the  sepul- 
chre," his  companion  said,  in  a  lower  tone. 

"Revelation?  Sepulchre?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fanthorp. 
"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  She  was  like  a  tigress.  I  wouldn't  have 
cared  if  she  had  killed  that  girl."  As  he  said  it  he  seemed 
suddenly  struck  by  something  he  saw  in  the  face  of  the 
other ;  and,  looking  at  him  more  curiously,  the  color  came 
so  much  more  into  Mr.  Venable's  face,  that  at  last  Mr. 
Fanthorp  smote  his  hand  upon  his  thigh,  and  indulged  in  a 
long  whistle.  "  I  thought  so  !  "  he  said.  "  Well,  if  that  is 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  233 

the  case  I  am  revenged  !  Gov.  Magruder  will  do  it  for  me. 
I  am  sorry  for  you,  sir;  for,"  he  added,  holding  out  his 
hand,  "I  like  your  pluck.  She  is  worth  your  trying.  Go 
ahead  ! " 

"  Thank  you ;  I  intend  to,"  Mr.  Venable  said  gravely,  and 
left  the  room. 


234  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

ILLUSTRATING  THE   FACT  THAT  NATURE  ABHORS  A  VACUUM. 

AT  the  dawn  of  the  day  that  Gen.  Buttolph  and  his  party 
left  St.  Jerome  for  the  plantation,  Commodore  Grand- 
heur  awoke  in  a  restless  frame  of  mind.  After  shaving,  dress- 
ing, and  breakfasting,  with  rigorous  reference  to  the  clock,  he 
locked  himself  into  his  study,  as  was  his  invariable  rule,  for 
exactly  one  hour  of  reading  the  Scriptures  and  prayer.  That 
accomplished,  he  stood  for  some  time  looking  at  his  well- 
stocked  library.  On  retiring  from  the  navy,  and  when  fur- 
nishing his  house  abundantly  in  every  other  respect,  he  had 
obtained  also  as  complete  a  supply  of  books  as  any  man 
could  desire,  and  it  had  been  his  purpose  to  find  in  read- 
ing a  large  part  of  his  long-looked-for  happiness ;  yet  some- 
how he  hardly  ever  opened  a  book,  the  very  supply  seeming 
to  dismay  his  appetite.  On  this  occasion,  as  so  often  before, 
he  turned  away  from  his  library,  and  tried  to  amuse  himself 
in  a  weary  fashion  for  a  while  with  a  large  globe,  revolving 
it  this  way  and  that,  his  compasses  in  hand,  for  the  purpose 
of  getting,  for  the  thousandth  time,  certain  distances  there- 
upon. But  this  also  was  wearisome,  and  he  made  a  visit  to 
the  room  devoted  to  curiosities.  It  was  a  collection  which 
would  have  enraptured  any  stranger,  but  its  owner  was  famil- 
iar with  it  to  disgust.  He  glanced  with  weariness  over  the 
seashells  and  marine  monsters  stuffed  or  in  jars.  Every  fish 
had  its  mouth  distended,  and  he  never  failed  to  sympathize 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  235 

with  and  imitate  their  universal  yawn.  The  models  of  his 
favorite  ships,  too,  he  had  studied  so  very  often.  What  did 
he  care  for  the  weapons  and  dresses,  the  feathers  and  pipes, 
displayed  there  from  many  an  island  of  savages  ?  No  engi- 
neer could  have  desired  a  handsomer  assortment  of  model 
torpedoes,  to  say  nothing  of  improvements  in  cannon  and 
capstans  of  his  own  devising ;  yet  these  merely  aroused  in 
him  afresh  the  old  anger  at  the  stupidity  of  the  War  Depart- 
ment in  refusing  to  adopt  certain  suggestions  which  even  a 
fool  could  have  seen  would  revolutionize  warfare.  There 
was  one  case  of  rosewood  and  plate  glass  particularly  dear 
to  him,  and  he  turned  to  it  as  a  last  resort ;  but  there  was 
not  a  particle  of  pleasure  for  him  to-day  in  the  gingerbread 
decorations  and  orders  therein  displayed,  and  which  Con- 
gress had  allowed  him  to  accept  from  certain  foreign  poten- 
tates, great  and  small.  Nor  was  there,  when  he  stood  before 
the  cabinet  displaying  them,  a  spark  of  satisfaction  even  in 
the  medals  granted  him  by  Congress  for  heroic  deeds  :  they 
might  have  been  hard-tack,  instead  of  gold  and  silver,  so 
dry  and  innutritious  to-day  were  their  disks  to  his  hunger. 

And  the  gallant  old  soul  was  hungry  this  morning  —  rest- 
lessly, desperately,  almost  despairingly  hungry  —  for  some- 
thing, he  knew  not  what.  His  parlors  were  as  tiresome  to 
him  when  he  threw  open  the  blinds  and  took  a  survey  of 
carpets  and  mirrors,  marbles  and  pictures.  Except  when  he 
had  the  Sunday-school  teachers  to  tea,  what  did  he  want 
with  all  that  furniture  ?  and  when  he  had  them  to  tea,  some 
one  of  them  was  so  certain  to  differ  with  him  —  Miss  Aure- 
lia  Jones  in  particular  —  that  it  always  destroyed  for  the 
hour  his  very  ownership  in  the  house.  There  was  nothing 
left  but  to  take  a  round  of  the  garden  and  lawn,  but  he 
could  make  nothing  of  it  all  but  trees  and  grass.  His 
blooded  cows  might  get  good  out  of  it,  but  he  could  not. 
Twice  a  year  he  turned  his  Sunday  school  loose  upon  his 
grounds,  with  plenty  of  dinner  and  swings  thrown  in ;  but 


236  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

the  rapturous  children  were  not  here  to-day,  and  they  were 
as  indispensable  to  his  enjoyment  of  his  property  as  spoons 
and  knives  and  forks  are  to  a  feast.  His  acres  were  the 
envy  of  the  city ;  but,  had  they  been  painted  as  a  landscape 
npon  the  bottom  of  his  tobacco-box,  they  would  have  af- 
forded him  as  much  pleasure,  and  as  little. 

There  was  but  one  last  resort,  —  the  observatory  on  the 
top  of  his  house. 

"  If  I  were  sick,"  he  said  to  himself  as  he  climbed  up  stairs, 
"  I  could  take  salts ;  but  I  never  was  quite  so  well  in  my 
life.  I  can't  imagine  any  thing  to  eat  or  drink  or  wear  that 
I  want.  And  one  cannot  compel  his  Sunday  school  to  meet 
except  on  Sunday.  So  far  as  people  are  concerned,  what 
good  is  there  in  talking  to  them  in  the  streets  or  in  their 
houses  ?  Either  they  have  nothing  worth  hearing  to  say,  or 
they  are  eternally  airing  some  absurd  ideas  of  their  own. 
Miss  Aurelia  Jones,  for  instance.  I  can  see  her  this  moment 
with  her  black  eyes  and  her  ringlets.  She  knows  that  she  is 
the  only  woman  living  that  ventures  to  differ  from  me ;  and, 
having  nothing  else  to  do,  half  the  pleasure  of  Sunday  school 
to  her  is  in  defying  me.  It  is  as  necessary  to  a  woman  of 
her  temperament  as  mustard  is  to  beef.  .  Well,  what  is  there 
to  see  here  ?  "  And  having  reached  his  observatory,  after 
getting  over  the  perspiring  and  panting  inevitable  to  a  man 
of  his  portly  build  and  irascible  nature,  he  proceeded,  quad- 
rant in  hand,  to  take  his  exact  bearings.  He  had  done  it 
very,  very  often  before ;  and,  as  his  house  had  not  sailed 
anywhere  since  he  was  there  last,  the  process  and  result 
were  too  easy  and  too  certain  to  do  him  any  good.  Then 
he  levelled  his  glass,  and  slowly  swept  the  city  and  island 
and  sea  round  and  round  :  yet  that  wide  field  did  not  yield 
him  a  grain  of  harvest.  As  he  snapped  the  slides  of  the 
glass  to,  he  thought  of  getting  out  his  charts  down  in  his 
study,  and  sailing  over  again  his  whole  series  of  voyages. 
"  But  I've  gone  over  it  so  often,"  he  said,  "  that  I  can  do  it 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  237 

as  well  up  here,  and  without  the  charts ;  and  I  don't  want 
to." 

He  had  never  been  so  miserable.  Moreover,  he  knew 
well  enough  that  as  he  grew  older  it  would  be  worse.  One 
would  hardly  have  recognized  him  as  he  stood  there  on  the 
summit  of  his  house  and  his  wealth  and  all,  the  world  hav- 
ing nothing  more  to  give  him  than  he  already  possessed. 
The  world  ?  the  universe  for  that  matter ;  for  in  Scripture 
and  church  and  prayer  he  had  ranged  over  and  gathered  to 
himself  all  that  lay  outside  the  world  too.  Even  Mr. 
Nogens  would  have  exclaimed  aloud,  had  he  seen  the  com- 
modore. His  hands  had  fallen  to  his  sides,  his  head  upon 
his  bosom,  his  white  moustache  drooped,  his  bronzed  face 
was  almost  ghastly,  the  portly  figure  seemed  wilted  and  shriv- 
elled into  sudden  age.  It  was  by  an  effort  that  he  at  last 
roused  himself  to  say  one  word ;  but  he  said  it  without  any 
special  interest, — 

"  Becalmed  !  " 

Nothing  to  say,  to  think,  to  do,  to  feel.  Nowhere  to  go, 
nothing  to  look  forward  to.  He  went  slowly  down  to  his 
study,  and  opened,  unconscious  that  he  did  so,  his  big 
Bible  at  the  lesson  for  his  school  the  coming  Sunday. 
The  first  verse  called  to  mind  a  preposterous  opinion  Miss 
Aurelia  Jones  had  advanced  in  relation  thereto  at  their  last 
teachers'  meeting.  But  as  he  meditated  a  wholly  different 
train  of  thought  seemed  to  enter  his  mind.  Slowly,  but  very 
steadily,  his  head  rose  as  he  sat  in  reflective  attitude,  the 
color  came  back  to  his  face,  the  stiffness  to  his  white  mous- 
tache, the  light  to  his  eyes,  the  portliness  to  his  body.  As 
if  some  great  tide  had  turned  within  him  from  its  lowest 
ebb,  and  was  lifting  him  by  its  irresistible  flood,  he  seemed 
to  rise  and  freshen  and  brighten,  until  at  last  the  incoming 
ocean  fairly  lifted  him  to  his  feet.  He  stood  erect,  looking 
into  the  air  as  if  from  his  quarter-deck  over  wide  seas,  his 
gaze  concentrating  itself  as  if  upon  the  vessel  of  an  enemy 


238  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

bearing  down  upon  him.  At  last  it  was  as  if  the  foe  had 
climbed  up  his  bulwarks,  and  were  bearding  him  upon  his 
very  post  as  commander.  He  looked  with  rising  wrath  as  if 
into  the  eyes  of  an  insolent  invader ;  and,  with  clenching 
hand,  he  said  aloud,  — 

"  No,  madam,  never  !  " 

But  the  incoming  flood  of  the  future  had  not  as  yet 
reached  its  high-water  mark,  if  the  confusion  of  metaphor 
may  be  allowed.  He  stood  for  some  time  as  if  unable  to 
resist.  Then,  as  he  still  reflected,  he  slowly  let  his  right 
hand  be  lifted  by  the  advancing  tide  high  over  his  head,  to 
bring  it  down  suddenly  with  clenched  fist  upon  the  Bible, 
and  a  violent  exclamation,  — 

"  Bearings  at  last !  " 

In  an  hour's  time  he  came  out  of  his  front  door  dressed 
as  for  church.  The  servants  watched  him  with  amazement 
as  he  passed  out  and  down  the  steps  of  his  veranda,  and 
crunched  his  determined  way  along  the  shell-walk  and  out 
of  the  gate,  his  cane  tightly  grasped,  his  head  unusually 
erect,  the  gravest  resolve  in  his  eyes. 

This  atmosphere  of  ours  conveys  from  person  to  person 
more  than  touch  or  sound,  light  or  smell,  and  things  which 
it,  or  the  ether  in  it,  conveys  also  from  soul  to  soul  are  power- 
ful in  proportion  as  they  are  subtle.  That  very  morning 
Miss  Aurelia  Jones  had  awakened  in  a  frame  of  feeling  unlike 
that  of  the  commodore  merely  in  this,  that  it  was  one  of  yet 
more  profound  discontent.  Strange  to  say,  she  was  as  much 
more  dissatisfied  as  she  was  richer  than  the  other.  The  fact 
that  her  grounds  and  house  were  larger  and  finer  and  better- 
kept  but  increased  the  weariness  which  —  but  by  no  means 
for  the  first  time  —  they  awoke  in  her  this  magnetic  morn- 
ing.. 

"  I  must  be  getting  bilious,"  she  said  to  herself  at  the 
very  hour  the  commodore  was  wandering  disconsolately 
about  in  the  wilderness  of  his  museum.  "  There  is  no  more 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  239 

sewing  to  be  done.  It  is  no  use  to  sweep  and  scour  and 
dust  when  I've  seen  to  it  that  every  room  and  chair  and 
curtain  and  pane  of  glass  is  as  clean  as  work  can  make  it. 
Unless  I  want  to  leave  nothing  of  my  silver,  there  is  no  use 
in  having  it  rubbed  again.  If  Bob  has  left  a  weed  in  the 
garden,  I  couldn't  find  it  this  morning.  The  whole  house 
has  just  been  painted  and  papered.  There's  no  church 
until  next  Sunday.  The  sewing-society  and  the  parochial 
school,  teachers'  meeting  and  prayer-meeting,  won't  come 
before  their  time.  Oh,  bother  !  " 

Miss  Aurelia  had  already  looked  over  her  jewels  that  very 
morning  as  she  sat  in  bed  unwilling  to  rise.  It  was  impossi- 
ble for  any  woman  to  give  more  than  an  hour  to  brushing  her 
hair,  especially  when  she  had  given  the  same  length  of  time 
to  putting  it  up  the  night  before.  She  tried  the  pier-glass  in 
the  parlor  once  more.  Hair,  eyes,  the  effect  of  poising  her 
spirited  and  handsome  head  this  way  and  that,  the  adjust- 
ment and  re-adjustment  of  ribbon  and  frill,  of  necklace  and 
breastpin,  cannot  be  gone  over,  even  by  a  woman  with  noth- 
ing else  to  do,  more  than  a  hundred  times  in  one  morning 
without  weariness. 

"There's  no  new  drive,"  she  lamented  as  she  continued  to 
survey  herself  in  the  glass.  "There  is  not  a  soul  but  is 
owing  me  a  call.  All  yesterday  I  was  shopping  until  I  am 
sick  of  the  sight  of  silk  and  lace.  I  believe  my  Christian 
character  is  suffering  seriously  from  the  way  I  frequent  the 
stores.  I  wish  somebody  would  call,  or  die,  or  do  some- 
thing! What  a  stupid  world  it  is  !  "  and  the  solitary  woman 
wandered  aimlessly  about  her  house.  Once  she  called  in 
two  of  her  negro-women,  and,  seating  herself  in  the  middle 
of  a  room,  made  them  bring  and  range  her  Saratoga  trunks 
about  her,  with  the  view  of  surrounding  herself  with  a  chaos 
of  dresses,  purely  for  the  purpose  of  putting  each  back 
again.  But  she  merely  locked  them  again  immediately. 
"Carry  them  back,"  she  said  to  the  women.  "I  believe 


24O  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

you  look  so  discontented,"  she  added,  "  because  you  know 
I  was  going  to  give  you  dresses,  as  I  always  do.  The 
more  you  have,  the  more  you  don't  care  for  any  thing, 
ungrateful  creatures  !  Hold  your  tongues  !  What  you  need, 
both  of  you,  is  to  be  field-hands  again,  a  sharp  overseer  at 
your  heels,  with  nothing  but  hard  work  and  pork  and  grits." 

Then  their  mistress  made  up  her  mind.  Going  down  into 
her  little  library,  she  seated  herself  at  a  special  secretary, 
unlocked  the  outer  doors  thereof,  and  held  the  keys  in  hand 
as  she  ran  her  eyes  over  the  range  of  drawers  revealed 
inside.  Her  past  life  lay  waiting  the  unlocking  in  those 
drawers,  —  a  drawer  for  each  separate  period.  Letters,  read 
and  reread,  were  in  them ;  locks  of  hair ;  fragments  of  rib- 
bon understood  by  no  one  else ;  miniatures  and  daguerro- 
types ;  jewelry  not  worth  sixpence  to  look  at ;  bunches  of 
withered  flowers,  and  the  like.  Her  face  had  grown  hard 
and  pale  as  she  sat,  the  key  in  her  hand,  which  was  hover- 
ing about,  undecided  which  of  the  receptacles  to  unlock. 
Suddenly  she  let  her  hand  fall.  "  No,  I  can't  do  it !  "  she 
communed  with  herself.  "  I  have  exhausted  my  emotions 
long  ago.  They  do  me  no  good  unless  to  make  me  cry, 
and  I'm  too  tired  to  cry.  No,  no  :  it  is  the  only  place  left 
me,  and  I  will  go  there." 

Locking  the  secretary,  she  went  wearily  up-stairs  again 
into  a  little  room  opening  into  her  bed-chamber.  There 
was  nothing  in  it  beyond  a  chair,  a  table  with  a  Bible  on  it, 
and  a  cushion  on  which  to  kneel,  —  nothing  else,  unless  it 
were  a  small  picture  on  the  wall,  apparently  the  likeness  of 
some  young  man  who  could  not  have  been  regarded  by  his 
friends  as  handsome.  And  yet  the  poor  lady,  as  if  from 
force  of  habit,  fastened  a  tired  look  upon  it  as  she  sank  into 
the  seat,  and  opened  the  book  upon  the  table  beside  her. 
She  read,  or  tried  to  read,  for  some  time,  then  knelt,  but  rose 
again  very  soon. 

"  It  is  dreadful,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  sat  down,  al- 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  24! 

most  fretfully,  again ;  "  but  there  doesn't  seem  to  be  any 
thing  here  for  me,  either.  There  is  nothing  to  ask  for,  that 
I  know.  It  is  like  trying  "  —  she  shuddered  as  she  thought 
it  —  "  to  gossip  with  —  with  —  God  !  I  don't  suppose  peo- 
ple even  in  heaven  are  allowed  to  do  that.  God  forgive 
my  irreverence  !  The  Bible  seems  to  say  that  they  are  busy 
as  they  can  be  all  the  time  in  heaven  also.  One  must  have 
an  appetite  before  one  can  relish  even  the  bread  of  life ; 
and  to  have  an  appetite,  one  must  be  hard  at  work.  I'm 
hunting  all  the  time  for  work,  but  there  is  so  little  to  do  ! 
I  wish  it  were  time  for  calling  in  the  people  to  prayers  down 
stairs.  If  some  beggar  would  only  come  !  It  would  be 
a  round  sum  to  him  if  any  agent  were  to  happen  in  for  any 
society.  If  one  only  knew  of  a  scalded  child,  or  of  a 
woman  whose  husband  beat  her  !  I  would  give  fifty  dollars 
for  a  blind  old  woman  to  read  to,  —  yes,  or  a  hundred  for 
a  poor  girl  that  would  let  me  teach  her  to  read  or  to  make 
wax-flowers.  And  it  is  getting  worse  and  worse  with  me 
every  day.  I  wish  somebody  would  swindle  me  out  of  my 
money,  or  set  fire  to  the  house,  or  charge  me  with  stealing 
something  in  the  stores.  Oh,  me  !  " 

For  a  long  time  she  sat  in  her  chair,  her  head  upon  her 
bosom,  thinking,  thinking,  thinking.  But  it  could  not  have 
been  wholesome  thought.  Once  she  rose,  and  stood  look- 
ing, another  Mariana  in  her  moated  grange,  out  of  the 
window.  She  might  as  well  have  been  looking  at  a  stone 
wall,  for  any  thing  she  saw  of  interest.  All  that  she  did 
note  were  her  carriage  and  horses  waiting,  according  to  her 
orders,  at  the  gate ;  and  she  commanded  them  away  as  if  it 
were  an  importunate  tramp.  Then,  after  walking  hither  and 
thither  like  a  caged  lynx,  she  sank  into  a  seat.  As  she  sat, 
her  hands  clenched,  her  eyes  grew  dry  and  bright,  her 
face  hard  and  white  and  cold.  At  last  she  rose,  shut  her 
Bible  with  a  slam,  left  the  little  room  as  if  finding  it  too 
small  to  hold  her,  and  walked  up  and  down  her  chamber 


242  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

with  rapid  steps  and  flaming  glances.  Her  Sunday-school 
class  would  not  have  known  her.  She  raised  her  hands  to 
wring  them,  winding  the  fingers  of  the  one  in  the  other,  and 
when  they  fell  to  her  side  they  were  clenched.  The  curls 
upon  either  side  of  her  face  suddenly  seemed  frivolous  in 
connection  with  the  violence  of  her  aspect ;  it  was  like  ring- 
lets adown  the  cheeks  of  Bellona.  And  terrible  words  broke 
from  her  lips,  —  invective,  reproach,  scorn,  despair,  —  the 
very  suppression  of  speech  adding  to  its  intensity  and  bit- 
terness. 

"And  to  think,"  she  said  in  a  fierce  whisper,  "that  the 
wickedest  wretch  living  is  not  as  miserable  as  I  am  !  And 
yet  I  have  tried  so  hard  to  be  good  and  to  do  good  all  my 
life  !  " 

As  she  walked,  like  a  tigress  now,  from  one  end  of  the 
room  to  the  other,  her  eyes  caught  sight  of  her  face  in  a 
looking-glass,  and  she  stopped  terrified  at  her  appearance. 
An  instant  more,  and  she  had  fallen  on  the  floor  in  an  agony 
of  repentance,  crying,  pleading  for  pardon,  weeping  as  it 
were  her  soul  away.  Utterly  exhausted,  she  rose  at  last, 
bathed  her  face  long  and  carefully,  and  arranged  her  hair. 
The  next  moment  she  sank  once  more  on  her  knees  in  her 
little  room,  very  calm  and  quiet.  "  Whatever  is  thy  will, 
O  Heaven  !  "  was  all  she  said. 

As  she  rose,  the  front  gate  opened  and  shut.  Very  lan- 
guidly she  looked  out  of  the  window.  When  she  saw  who 
it  was,  there  was  first  an  exclamation  of  anger,  then  her 
face  relaxed  into  a  smile,  then  she  was  laughing  with  sin- 
cerity and  girl-like  sense  of  the  fun  of  it  all.  At  a  glance 
she  saw  that  it  was  not  so  much  the  visitor  as  it  was  a  great 
event  which  had  arrived ;  and  in  the  instant  she  recog- 
nized and  accepted  it. 

"Very  well,"  she  replied  when  one  of  the  women  an- 
nounced a  visitor.  "  Tell  him  I  will  be  down  in  a  few  min- 
utes." But  her  visitor  had  to  wait.  Never  had  Miss  Aurelia 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  243 

Jones  made  a  more  elaborate  toilet ;  and  when  at  last  she 
did  go  down,  her  face  was  the  brightest  and  most  beautiful 
thing  about  her.  It  would  be  wrong  to  liken  so  thoroughly 
excellent  a  woman  to  a  barren  and  burned-out  satellite  as 
the  moon,  although  Miss  Aurelia  had  undoubtedly  had  her 
volcanic  experiences  as  well  as  that  orb :  yet  the  moon  it- 
self did  not  wax  and  wane  through  greater  variations  of 
light  and  shadow  than  did  she. 

To  the  commodore  her  curls  had  never  seemed  so  natural, 
her  eyes  so  bright  in  their  beady  blackness,  her  face  more 
effusive  with  the  cordial  welcome  which  gave  such  warmth 
to  her  hand  as  she  held  it  out  on  entering. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  called  this  beautiful  day,  sir,"  she 
began  at  once.  "  I  wanted,"  with  a  charming  smile,  "  to 
say  how  wrong  I  was  as  to  that  cubit  measure  we  were 
discussing." 

"That  is  one  reason,  Miss  Aurelia,"  the  visitor  hastened 
to  say,  "  I  called.  I  insisted,  you  remember,  that  a  cubit 
is  eighteen  inches.  On  reflection,  I  am  inclined  to  think 
you  were  right  as  to  its  being  twenty-one  inches  instead.  I 
have  gone  accurately  over  the  chart  of  the  tabernacle.  It 
is  absurd,  when  I  come  to  think  of  it,  that  the  house  of 
worship  for  the  millions  led  out  by  Moses  was  only  forty-five 
by  fifteen  feet.  Your  cubit  is  undoubtedly  the  correct 
measure,  and  even  that  leaves  the  tabernacle  extremely 
small." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  think  so,"  she  hastened  almost 
impatiently  to  say;  "but  every  respectable  commentator 
adopts  your  idea  of  the  cubit,  —  eighteen  inches,  sir,  eigh- 
teen. And  I  wanted  to  say  how  ashamed  I  am  that  I  was 
so  impulsive  and  heated  when  we  discussed  it.  People  who 
are  in  the  wrong  always  are  vexed,  you  know." 

"  In  that  case  I  certainly  was  the  one  in  error,"  the  com- 
modore said  with  energy.  "I  am  always  too  positive, 
madam.  The  habit  was  formed  on  shipboard,  where  I  had 


244  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

to  be  peremptory,  as  you  are  aware.  I  have  never  differed 
with  you,  Miss  Jones,  that  I  had  not  reason  to  regret  it 
afterward." 

"  Please  don't  allude  to  it,  commodore,"  the  lady  inter- 
rupted. 

Now,  Miss  Jones  had  been  painfully  careful  hitherto  not 
to  give  that  gentleman  his  title.  She  refrained  from  doing 
so,  because  she  knew  that  he  decidedly  preferred  it.  By 
styling  him  sir  instead,  as  a  rule,  —  by  speaking  to  and  of 
him  in  moments  of  serious  difference  as  Mr.  Grandheur, 
even,  —  she  had  intended  him  distinctly  to  understand,  that, 
whoever  else  in  St.  Jerome  was  afraid  of  him,  she  was  not. 
In  no  way  could  she  have  hauled  down  her  flag,  too,  to-day 
more  entirely,  and  at  the  same  time  with  more  womanly 
grace,  than  in  thus  giving  him,  and  as  a  matter  of  course, 
his  rightful  title.  The  sweetness  to  her  visitor  of  such  a 
sugar-plum  was  simply  ridiculous,  but  in  some  respects  the 
gallant  old  soul  was  the  tiniest  of  babes. 

"  And  while  we  are  upon  the  subject,  commodore,"  she 
continued  in  her  eager  way,  "  I  want  to  acknowledge  my 
error  in  regard  to  the  talents." 

"  Not  at  all,  madam,"  the  other  said,  bringing  his  gold- 
headed  cane  down  with  quite  a  thump  on.  the  carpet,  as  he 
sat  with  it  between  his  knees.  "  It  was  /  who  was  mistaken. 
A  silver  talent  could  never  have  been  sixteen  hundred  and 
ten  dollars,  as  I  asserted,  any  more  than  a  talent  of  gold 
was  merely  twenty-seven  thousand  three  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-five dollars.  You  were  right,  madam,  —  right !  " 

"Oh,  no,  commodore,  —  no,  no  !  You  know,"  the  lady 
said,  sweetly  referring  to  a  mite  of  a  memorandum-book  in 
her  portemonnaie,  "  that  I  said  a  talent  of  silver  amounted 
to  two  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Absurd  ! 
that  would  make  a  talent  of  gold  no  less  than  thirty-six 
thousand  dollars.  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  taking  such 
ground.  In  that  case,  the  temple  of  Solomon  cost  between 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  245 

eight  and  nine  hundred  millions  of  dollars.  How  absurd  ! 
My  position  was  positively  wicked.  Mr.  Fanthorp  is  a 
scoffer,  and  he  seized  upon  my  estimate  as  proof  that  the 
Bible  is  false.  You  cannot  tell,  commodore,  how  sincerely 
I  regret  it. 

"  Please  let  me  say  one  thing  more,  and  then  we  will 
never  allude  to  the  subject  again,"  she  added  softly  and  with 
lowered  eyes.  "  We  have  often  differed,  —  very  often,  I 
fear,  —  and  the  influence  of  this  was  bad  upon  the  Sunday- 
school  children,  to  say  nothing  of  the  teachers.  I  blame 
myself  severely.  But  —  no,  let  me  say  it  all,  please,"  she 
added  as  he  made  an  effort  to  interrupt  her.  "  One  mo- 
ment. You  know  me  well.  I  am,  I  fear,  of  an  ardent 
and  impulsive  nature,  far  too  much  so  :  I  am  so  self-willed. 
It  is  my  misfortune  to  be  my  own  mistress,  and  —  oh,  you 
know  "  — 

The  visitor  understood  very  well  that  she  referred  to  her 
wealth,  which,  as  everybody  agreed,  did  somewhat  spoil  Miss 
Aurelia,  as,  alas  !  whom  does  it  not  spoil  ?  In  all  that  she 
said,  however,  she  remained  a  lady.  No  man  knew  that  bet- 
ter than  did  her  guest.  He  had  but  to  presume  upon  any 
thing  said  by  her,  and  those  lowered  eyes  would  be  lifted 
with  a  flash  which  would  have  riven  the  commodore,  stout 
as  he  was.  They  knew  each  other :  from  long  and  close 
association  each  knew  the  other  perfectly  well.  Too  long 
had  they  labored  together  in  the  same  church  for  this  not  to 
be  the  case.  All  along  they  had  quarrelled  because  each 
was  so  determined,  as  well  as  independent.  But  of  late 
they  had  come  to  be  aware  that,  in  fact,  each  was,  instead, 
unspeakably  dependent  upon  the  other,  —  a  conclusion, 
which  gave  a  converging  direction  to  the  determination 
steadily  forming  in  the  bosoms  of  both.  He  had  come  to 
know  that  his  lonely  life  was  intolerable  already,  and  that  it 
would  become  more  so  with  every  fleeting  day.  This  being 
so,  he  knew  of  no  other  lady  so  well  qualified,  on  the  whole, 


246  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

to  relieve  his  otherwise  desperate  estate.  Possibly  the  same 
reflection  was  true  on  her  part  toward  him,  except  that  his 
opinions  had  been  slowly  forming,  while  hers  had  come,  as 
a  woman's  best  resolves  always  do,  in  the  fateful  instant  she 
had  seen  him  enter  her  front  gate  that  morning. 

There  was,  under  all  his  concessions  to  the  lady,  the 
steady  resolve,  that,  as  captain  of  the  ship,  he  must  and 
would  rule  in  the  event  of  marriage.  On  her  side  there  was 
almost  an  eagerness  to  be  ruled.  It  was  a  welcome  rest 
after  years  of  strife  against  circumstances,  and  was  in  the 
last  hour  re-action  from  the  violence  into  which  that  strife 
with  the  inevitable  had  culminated  at  the  very  moment  its 
remedy  was  approaching  her  house  in  the  boots  of  the  com- 
modore. 

One  thing  surprised  and  delighted  them  both,  and  that 
was  the  degree  in  which  they  felt  themselves  entirely  at 
home,  each  with  the  other.  The  spirits  of  the  gentleman 
rose  higher  as  he  felt  himself  advancing  to  conquest ;  for  a 
love  of  rule  had  grown  with  his  growth,  exactly  as  a  passion 
for  drink  or  for  gambling  might  have  done.  Not  a  syllable 
had  as  yet  been  ventured  by  him  in  that  direction,  and  yet 
the  lady  faced  and  accepted  what  she  felt  to  be  a  certainty ; 
and  her  increasing  satisfaction  showed  itself  in  the  deepen- 
ing quietness  of  her  manner,  —  a  quietness  which  explained 
itself  to  her  as  she  sat.  Amazing  to  say,  her  surrender  was, 
she  well  knew,  but  the  path  toward  such  a  supremacy  in  the 
end  over  this  grand  old  foe  of  hers  as  she  had  never 
dreamed  of.  She  almost  pitied  him,  knowing  how  uncon- 
sciously he  was  passing  into  her  hands,  to  be  as  completely 
ruled  as  ever  a  husband  was  in  this  world,  —  a  world  from 
the  primeval  constitution  of  which,  and  by  some  astounding 
oversight,  the  salique  law  has  been  wholly  omitted. 

"There  is  another  thing,  commodore,"  she  said  at  last, 
and  after  a  good  deal  of  conversation,  —  "a  matter  in  which 
you  were  right.  I  allude  to  it  with  reluctance :  your  original 


A   YEAR  WORTH   LIVING.  247 

opposition,  I  mean,  to  our  pastor,  Mr.  Venable.  You  know 
how  delighted  /  was.  I  overrate  everybody,  exactly  as  I 
did  the  cubits  and  the  talents  :  it  is  my  impulsive  nature. 
I  am  afraid  I  made  myself  too  active,  I  am  so  enthusiastic, 
you  know." 

"  Pardon  me,  madam,  —  not  at  all.  It  but  illustrates," 
the  other  hastened  to  say,  greatly  struck  by  it,  "  how  much 
your  excellent  judgment  was  superior  to  my  own.  As  you 
will  recall,  I  had  taken  my  stand  in  opposition  before  I 
knew  him,  and  I  would  therefore  have  disliked  him  whatever 
he  had  proved  to  be.  It  was  sheer  prejudice  in  me,  — 
prejudice  !  It  has  been  my  business  in  life,  madam,  to 
know  my  subordinates,  in  order  to  wield  them  in  cases  of 
sudden  emergency.  I  am  compelled  to  know  them  thor- 
oughly, and  I  have  come  to  know  Mr.  Venable.  You  must 
pardon  me,"  her  visitor  said  with  dignity,  "  if  I  do  most 
heartily  appeal  to  your  first  impression  of  the  gentleman, 
venturing  to  differ  from  you  now  as  I  do  from  myself  then. 
I  very  highly  prize  our  pastor.  He  is  young,  but  he  has 
the  elements  of  sterling  manhood.  I  speak  so  warmly  be- 
cause I  confess,  as  I  have  come  to  know  him,  it  has  touched 
me  to  the  soul  to  see  how  profound  is  his  dissatisfaction 
with  himself.  A  man,  Miss  Jones,  may  —  please  do  not 
misunderstand  me  —  may  throw  himself — I  speak  with  all 
reverence  —  too  prostrate  even  at  the  feet  of  God  !  In  a 
certain  sense,  I  mean." 

"Did  you  ever  think  of  Daniel?"  she  said.  "I  mean 
when  he  had  his  vision  of  God  beside  the  river.  He  fell 
flat  on  his  face  ;  but  his  visitor  would  not  speak  to  him  while 
in  that  attitude,  and  made  him  arise.  And  when  Daniel  got 
up,  but  remained  upon  his  hands  and  knees,  the  command 
was,  '  Stand  upon  thy  feet,'  before  God  would  confer  with 
him.  I  like  a  man,"  the  lady  added  with  energy,  "  to  be  a. 
man,  —  to  be  humble,  but  to  be  a  man  !  " 

The  commodore  flushed  with  pleasure  as  he  exclaimed, 


248  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"  I  heartily  agree  with  you,  Miss  Aurelia.  And  I  thank  you 
for  your  admirable  illustration  from  Scripture.  When  I  was 
going  with  my  fleet  into  a  storm  or  into  a  battle,  I  first 
asked  aid  of  Heaven.  I  asked  it  importunately,  I  hope ; 
but,  having  done  so,  I  handled  my  ships  myself.  In  a  cer- 
tain sense,  I  stood  upon  my  quarter-deck  in  God's  place. 
Look  at  poor  old  Father  Fethero,  madam.  The  whole 
tendency  of  our  times  is  to  lower  and  weaken  the  man- 
hood of  the  ministry.  A  man  must  be  a  captain  of  his  ship, 
whatever  the  craft  be,  if  he  is  to  bring  it  into  harbor.  I 
agree  with  you  most  heartily ;  "  and  he  sat  up  in  his  chair 
more  erect  than  before,  a  gallant  old  soul  as  you  could  wish 
to  see,  —  sat  up  strong  and  commanding  for  an  instant.  The 
next,  shifting  his  cane  from  hand  to  hand  as  he  sat,  his  large 
figure-head  of  a  face  grew  pale  and  then  purple.  In  vain  he 
attempted  to  put  on  the  port  of  a  commander  as  he  goes 
into  action,  and  at  conscious  disadvantage  he  began : 
"  Ahem  !  Miss  Aurelia  Jones,  I  wished  "  — 

"  Oh  !  by  the  by  —  pardon  me,  commodore,"  the  lady 
said  hastily,  but  with  ease,  because  entirely  mistress  of  the 
situation,  and  rising  as  she  spoke,  — "  there  are  some 
improvements  I  have  planned  upon  my  place.  I  am  always 
mistaking.  Please  oblige  me  with  your  excellent  judg- 
ment ;  "  and,  so  saying,  she  led  her  visitor,  nothing  loath, 
out  of  her  parlor  and  into  the  grounds. 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  249 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  EBBING  SEA   REVEALS   SOMEWHAT  OF  THAT  WHICH  IT 
HIDES. 

WITH  August  came  the  yearly  repainting  and  repair- 
ing of  Gen.  Buttolph's  mansion  in  St.  Jerome ;  and 
Mr.  Venable  accepted  an  often-repeated  invitation  of  Mr. 
Parsons  to  make  his  house,  at  least  for  a  while,  his  home. 

Mr.  Parsons  was  too  much  absorbed  in  his  manifold  in- 
ventions to  pay  attention  to  his  pastor  beyond  the  usual 
courtesies  of  a  host ;  the  more  especially  as  Mrs.  Parsons, 
overflowing  with  health  and  spirits,  and  sympathizing  with 
the  young  man,  exerted  herself  beyond  her  warm-hearted 
wont  to  make  him  feel  at  home.  As  to  little  Owny,  she 
forsook  father  and  mother  to  cleave  to  their  guest  j  living, 
almost,  in  Mr.  Venable's  study,  if  not  in  his  arms,.  He 
was  by  no  means  the  enthusiastic  person  he  had  been,  and 
for  so  long  after  his  arrival.  What  was  this  wonderful 
island  at  last,  but  a  reef  of  sand  ?  The  eternal  sea,  almost 
on  a  level  with  it  all  around,  was  wearisome ;  the  heat  of 
midsummer  so  oppressive  that  he  was  fain  to  sleep  these 
hot  nights  upon  the  floor  of  the  veranda,  an  umbrella  up 
over  him  to  keep  off  the  brilliant  light  of  the  moon.  And 
then  the  mosquitoes  were  so  maddening,  whenever  a  land- 
breeze  blew,  as  to  irritate  him  beyond  endurance.  Worse 
than  all,  the  summer  had  poured  a  stupidity  as  into  the 
arteries  of  his  church.  Not  only  was  the  attendance  there- 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

upon  small,  —  at  prayer-meeting  exceedingly  small,  —  but  he 
could  no  more  arouse  himself  than  he  could  the  people. 

The  unceasing  unbelief  of  Mrs.  Parsons  and  Owny  in 
the  inventor's  ideas,  their  perpetual  ridicule  and  laughter, 
amused  their  guest ;  but  he  was  more  interested  in  the  lov- 
ing devotion,  none  the  less,  of  the  blooming  wife  and  her 
rosy  little  duplicate,  to  the  gaunt  and  hollow-eyed  old  man, 
so  eager  and  headlong  in  pursuit  of  bubbles  which  always 
broke  as  he  grasped  them. 

"  If  I  miss  it  in  one  thing  I  will  hit  it  in  another,"  Mr. 
Parsons  said  one  morning  at  breakfast  when  his  wife  had 
been  unmerciful  in  the  long  list  she  gave  Mr.  Venable  of 
her  husband's  inventions,  each  of  which  had  been,  in  its 
turn,  so  certain  to  succeed.  "  Ezra  Micajah  Papa  is  made 
of  India-rubber,"  she  replied :  "  when  he  falls  hardest  he 
bounces  highest.  Look  at  that  ridiculous  terraqueous 
machine." 

"  It  is  bound  to  succeed ;  yes,  to  succeed  gloriously,"  her 
husband  interrupted.  "  I  am  going  to  give  you  all  another 
ride,  sir.  I  am  perfecting  the  wheels.  Next  time  we  will 
go  faster,  and  not  only  by  land." 

"  Will  you  take  to  the  air?  "  his  wife  asked,  laughing. 

"  Not  with  this  machine.  But  I  will  one  day ;  and,"  he 
added,  "I  will  call  it  the  terra  -  aerial  -  aqueous  machine. 
Laugh  away.  —  Hold  your  mug,  Owny ;  "  and  seizing  upon 
the  pitcher  of  milk,  he  was,  after  looking  thoughtfully  into 
it,  complying  with  a  request  of  the  child  for  more. 

"  O  Ezra  Micajah  Papa  ! "  the  little  one  exclaimed,  and 
with  good  reason.  Her  father  had  poured  half  a  gallon  in- 
stead of  a  half-pint,  overflowing  the  mug.  In  hastily  setting 
down  the  pitcher  it  had  upset  upon  the  pones  of  corn-bread, 
deluging  the  table. 

"  Stuff  an'  nonsense  !  Fiddlesticks  !  "  the  child  cried, 
while  the  good  wife,  without  a  shadow  upon  her  clear,  health- 
ful face,  broke  into  a  merriment  which  it  was  better  than 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  251 

breakfast  to  hear.  "What  is  the  matter?  "she  called  after 
her  husband,  as  he  got  up  hurriedly  from  the  table,  upsetting 
his  chair,  and  nearly  pulling  the  cloth  off  the  board. 

"  An  idea  strikes  me  ! "  It  was  all  he  said  as  he  disappeared. 
And  it  was  an  idea,  if  gold  is  the  weight  and  measure  there- 
of. The  blow  of  that  thought  smote  in  the  end  from  the  lean 
and  rocky  old  man  a  stream  deeper  and  broader,  and  to 
flow  considerably  farther,  than  that  flood  of  milk,  —  a  stream 
upon  whose  tide,  if  the  figure  may  be  pressed,  there  sailed 
to  him  at  last  his  ship  of  money,  in  good  earnest,  bringing 
to  him  at  least  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year. 

But  none  at  table  knew  it  then ;  and  Mr.  Venable  was 
glad  to  get  away  from  it  all  as  from  another  of  the  innumer- 
able annoyances  of  the  wearisome  time. 

"  I  am  utterly  disgusted,"  he  found  himself  saying  an  hour 
later  to  Father  Fethero,  upon  whom  he  had  called  as  a  des- 
perate alternative.  He  had  found  the  old  minister  working 
as  usual  in  the  garden  of  the  poor  place  he  called  his  home ; 
and  they  had  seated  themselves,  it  was  so  hot,  upon  empty 
vinegar-kegs  of  which  the  children  had  made  a  playhouse 
under  the  china-tree  in  the  corner  of  the  ground. 

"  The  people  seem  to  have  taken  an  aversion  to  me,"  he 
said  in  the  distress  of  his  soul.  "  Few  except  the  members 
come  to  hear  me.  Almost  no  one  attends  prayer-meeting. 
I  argue  and  persuade  and  entreat  with  all  the  soul  I  possess, 
and  in  vain.  And  I  try  to  instruct  in  the  doctrines  and 
duties,  yet  is  it  water  on  rock.  I  make  the  most  earnest 
effort  to  prepare  sermons.  They  seem  to  me  so  interesting 
and  striking ;  but  no  one  cares  to  listen  to  them.  It  is  ter- 
rible. I  have  no  appetite.  I  cannot  sleep  at  night.  It  may 
surprise  you  that  I  should  speak  so  plainly,  Father  Fethero ; 
but  I  know  you  will  not  mention  it.  And  you  are  an  expe- 
rienced minister.  I  must  have  some  one  to  advise  with. 
And  look  at  it,  sir,"  he  added  almost  bitterly  :  "  here  are  a 
dozen  churches,  fully  equipped,  yet  wickedness  has  become 


252  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

so  rampant  that  the  people  have  had  to  organize  a  vigilance 
committee.  It  began,  you  know,  with  the  lynching  of  Gen. 
Buttolph's  overseer ;  and  they  have  had  to  pack  off  a  score 
of  scoundrels  upon  the  Nautilus,  —  gamblers,  swindlers,  mur- 
derers. Is  not  the  gospel  in  our  hands  a  dead  failure? 
For  one,  I  am  disgusted  with  myself!  "  and  his  whole  aspect 
confirmed  the  fact. 

This  was  but  a  small  portion  of  what  he  said.  He  knew 
that  he  would  regret  next  day  having  said  any  thing ;  but  he 
had  endured  so  long,  he  was  desperate.  Besides,  he  sincerely 
loved  the  worn-out  old  veteran,  and  he  believed  that  Father 
Fethero  had  come  to  like  him.  And  so  he  had.  But  Father 
Fethero  had  been  Father  Fetttero  for  too  many  tough  and 
terrible  years,  to  be  any  other  than  Father  Fethero  still. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  do  not  know,"  he  said  at  last,  and  after 
the  other  was  entirely  through.  "  Ahem  !  yes.  You  are 
grievously  distressed.  I  do  not  wonder  at  it.  For  one,  I 
am  astonished  it  is  not  worse.  When  there  is  too  great  a 
gush  at  first,  you  are  sure  to  give  out  and  dry  up  the  sooner. 
I  said  to  my  daughter,  when  they  made  such  a  to-do  over 
you  at  your  coming,  'Jane,  this  cannot  last.'  You  have  come 
to  me,  and  I  will  stand  in  the  gap.  That  is,  so  far  as  I  can 
I  will  stand  in  the  gap ;  yes,  stand  in  the  gap.  But  I  must 
be  honest.  All  I  have  to  go  by  is  my  own  experience.  For 
fifty  years  no  man  could  have  toiled  harder  than  I  did.  I 
am  not  saying  I  have  had  no  seasons  of  refreshing  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lord.  But  I  have  had  a  hard  time,  my 
young  brother,  —  a  very  hard  time.  I  have  been  strongly 
tempted  to  regard  him  as  a  hard  master.  On  horseback  and 
often  on  foot :  Paul  did  that,  you  know,  to  Assos.  Winter, 
summer,  wet,  dry,  cold,  hot,  all  seasons,  I  have  forded 
creeks,  swum  streams,  struggled  through  bogs,  slept  out  in 
the  woods  ;  tried  to  do  so  on  prairies,  but  could  not  by  reason 
of  the  howling,  night  long,  of  the  wolves."  It  was  plain  that 
Father  Fethero  would  take  a  good  long  time  in  which  to  tell, 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  253 

in  his  slow  way,  of  his  sorrows ;  and  the  younger  of  the  two 
adjusted  himself  by  a  severe  effort  to  listen.  From  past 
experience  he  knew  that  the  other  was  wearisome,  to  a  young 
man  full  of  his  own  trials,  intolerably  wearisome. 

"  Yes,  yes  :  if  any  man  ought  to  know,  I  do.  Very  often 
have  I  preached  on  an  empty  stomach.  And  all  along,"  the 
old  man  added,  fastening  his  mournful  gaze  through  his 
spectacles  on  the  face  of  his  friend,  "  I  did  so  sincerely  de- 
siring to  know  nothing  but  Him  crucified.  Once,  after 
preaching  and  pastoral  visiting  among  a  people,  —  it  was  in 
the  Hawley  Post  Oaks,  I  remember,  for  a  whole  year,  —  I 
happened  to  overhear  their  leading  men  say  they  would  glad- 
ly double  my  salary  if  I  would  not  preach  at  all.  On  anoth- 
er occasion, — it  was  at  Limestone  Court  House,  —  I  received 
one  day  what  was  all  the  compensation  I  got  for  months  of 
severe  labor.  On  this  wise  it  was  :  At  the  house  where  I 
always  staid  Sunday  nights,  I  had  an  attack  of  dysentery, 
and  they  gave  me  a  phial  of  paregoric  to  take  to  my  room. 
Monday  morning  as  I  was  leaving,  I  handed  the  phial  to  the 
lady ;  and  she  said, '  You  may  have  it,  brother  Fethero  :  you 
may  keep  it.'  I  put  it  into  my  saddle-bags  ;  and  that,"  Father 
Fethero  added  without  a  suspicion  of  humor  in  his  manner, 
"  was  all  I  got  for  preaching  at  Limestone  Ridge." 

The  old  man  rested  both  of  his  yellow  and  wrinkled 
hands,  one  on  the  other,  on  the  top  of  his  spade,  for  he  had 
arisen ;  changed  his  weight,  as  he  did  in  the  pulpit,  from 
one  foot  to  the  other ;  and  after  some  silent  meditation,  he 
cleared  his  throat  with  peculiar  pulpit  clearance,  and  con- 
tinued, "  You  are  young,  I  am  old :  that  is  the  only  dif- 
ference between  us.  I  could  preach  when  I  was  your  age 
as  much  wood,  hay,  and  stubble  as  you  :  and  thought  it 
gold,  silver,  precious  stones,  as  much  as  you  do.  Look  at 
me  ;  "  and  the  old  man,  with  his  wrinkled  hands  extended  on 
either  side,  made  appeal  to  himself,  so  rusty  and  patched  in 
his  working- suit,  —  such  a  weather-beaten  laborer,  from  the 


254  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

tips  of  his  broad-toed  boots  to  the  top  of  his  old  hat  of 
black  straw.  "  I  tell  you,  my  young  brother,"  he  added,  "  it 
is  a  sin,  an  awful  sin ;  but  I  am  tempted  at  times.  The  sil- 
ver and  the  gold  are  His,  and  it  is  paid  out  to  me,  his  hard- 
worked  old  servant,  in  pennies  so  few,  so  pitiful —  May 
God  forgive  me  !  "  the  old  man  added,  the  tears  flowing  un- 
checked from  under  the  rims  of  his  glasses.  "If  I  could 
but  have  won  more  souls,  I  wouldn't  care  for  the  dollars. 
No :  welcome  poverty,  if  I  only  could  know  I  had  won  a 
multitude  of  souls  —  ! 

"At  many  and  many  an  appointment,"  Father  Fethero 
continued,  "I  have  gone  into  the  church  or  schoolhouse 
with  crowds  on  crowds  of  men  gathered  together  because  it 
was  a  Sunday  and  a  bright  day,  standing  about  outside,  whit- 
tling sticks  and  talking,  not  more  than  a  dozen  or  two  of  the 
old  stand-bys  in  to  hear  me  preach.  How  full  I  was  of  the 
blessed  gospel !  my  soul  running  over  with  the  good  tidings, 
and  not  a  sinner  inside  to  hear  it ;  the  people  as  clean  out  of 
my  reach  as  if  they  were  in  Jericho.  Poor  sermons  !  God 
only  knows  the  difference  it  makes  in  a  sermon  to  have  no- 
body, almost,  to  hear  it.  Paul  couldn't  preach  then.  Sup- 
pose I  never  was  a  man  of  talent :  I  wanted  to  do  good. 
They  say  this  and  that  man  ought  never  to  have  gone  into  the 
ministry.  I  have  had  ungodly  men  tell  me  I  ought  never  to 
have  left  the  plough.  Wasn't  it  Providence?  Is  it  only 
talent  that  is  blessed  ?  God  forgive  my  wicked  unbelief !  I 
know  there  remaineth  a  rest.  As  to  your  case,"  he  added 
after  composing  himself  a  little,  "  I  must  honestly  say  that  I 
plainly  perceive  a  gloom.  I  fear  things  will  be  worse  and 
worse.  If  people  shouldn't  continue  to  like  you  "  — 

"Let  any  one  give  me  the  least  hint,"  said  the  other  hotly, 
"  and  I  resign  instantly  !  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  do  not  know,"  Father  Fethero  made 
grave  reply.  "  It  is  giving  up  a  salary.  You  will  not  find  it 
easy  to  get  another  charge,  as  I  know  from  my  own  bitter 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  255 

experience.  Yet,"  he  continued,  his  blue  spectacles  full 
upon  the  other,  "  it  may  come  to  that.  All  I  can  say,"  he 
closed  as  they  parted  at  last,  "  is  what  the  aged  Paul  said  to 
Timothy :  Endure  hardness  as  a  good  soldier." 

The  warrior  in  this  instance,  however,  retreated  as  from  a 
defeat. 

"What  did  I  go  to  him  for?"  he  demanded  of  himself, 
after  an  hour's  walk  upon  the  beach.  "  That  is  part  of  my 
weakness ;  "  and  he  strolled  languidly  along,  heedless  of  the 
surf  often  dashing  over  his  feet.  As  he  neared  the  house  of 
Gen.  Buttolph,  he  came  upon  Grit,  who  was  digging,  in  sheer 
summer  idleness,  a  fiddler-crab  out  of  the  sand  to  see  it 
fight.  It  was  a  relief  to  sit  down  beside  the  boy  upon  the 
clean  sand.  After  the  sorrowful  old  age  of  Father  Fethero, 
the  mere  youth  of  the  boy  was  a  pleasant  variety.  "  I  am 
so  glad,  Grit,"  he  said,  after  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  the 
bathing,  fishing,  boating,  and  the  like,  "  that  you  are  grow- 
ing to  be  so  good  a  boy.  I  hope  you  are  not  sorry  I  came." 

"  Oh  !  it  wasn't  you,"  his  companion  said  with  a  boy's 
frankness.  "  It's  Zeo.  I  can't  stand  preaching,  you  see. 
A  fellow  will  go  to  sleep.  Oh  !  as  to  that,  yes,  I  was  a  hard 
case,  a  regular  rip.  What  can  you  expect  when  a  fellow's 
mother  is  dead,  and  there's  nothing  but  the  negroes  ?  Irene 
only  stopped  her  ears,  and  ran.  She  said  I  was  a  perfect 
nuisance,  a  detestable  wretch.  That's  all  she  said.  The 
best  she  can  do  is  to  scold  like  thunder,  or  to  cry  like  sixty. 
Now,  there's  Zeo  "  — 

"  Hush,  Grit,"  his  companion  said :  "  we  must  not  talk 
about  family  matters.  But,"  he  added  as  the  boy  worried 
the  crab  which  was  standing  up  on  its  hind  claws  and  clash- 
ing at  the  stick  with  its  pincers,  "  I  would  like,"  he  contin- 
ued after  a  longer  silence,  "  to  know  how  your  sister  got  you 
to  —  to  "  — 

"  Stop  being  such  a  scamp,"  Grit  said  promptly.  "  Oh  ! 
well,  she  loved  me,  and  she  wasn't  afraid  of  me  —  not  one 


256  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

bit.  I  have  gone  at  her  with  a  hatchet,  and  she  never  so 
much  as  winked.  But  it  wasn't  that,  you'd  better  believe," 
he  added,  after  a  pause. 

"  Well,  if  it  is  not  improper  for  you  to  say?  "  asked  Mr. 
Venable. 

"  If  I  didn't  curse  and  swear  a  few  !  but,"  added  the  boy, 
"  I  said  things  worse  than  that  for  a  white  girl  to  hear,  you 
know.  Oh,  but  I  was  a  rip  !  The  thing  is,  I  was  afraid  of 
her.  I  used  to  peep  of  nights  through  the  key-hole.  My  ! 
how  she  used  to  kneel  and  pray  "  — 

"  Hush  !  never  mind,"  began  the  other. 

"  And  when  she  came  at  me,  her  eyes  so  fixed  and  steady 
and  loving ;  I  tell  you,"  he  continued,  "  it  wasn't  because 
she  seemed  as  big  then  as  a  barn,  and  as  strong  as  a  horse. 
What  it  was  is,  I  was  afraid,  —  afraid  somehow  :  oh  !  I  don't 
know ;  a  sort  of  something  with  her,  and  more  than  her ;  and 
a  kind  of  something  in  me  too.  "  Look  here,  Mr.  Venable, 
you  used  to  look  at  her  so  I  thought,"  planting  his  uncon- 
scious dagger  in  the  heart  of  the  other,  "  that  you  were  going 
to  court  her.  But  Zeo  is  going  to  marry  Old  Ugly,  the 
governor,  you  know;  a  splendid  chap.  Look  at  that," 
producing  a  pocket-knife :  "  ten  blades,  a  corkscrew,  a 
walnut-picker,  and  a  pair  of  pincers.  He  gave  it.  That's 
the  kind  of  a  brother-in-law,  you  bet !  And  I'm  going  to 
live  with  them.  With  Irene  ?  I  guess  not. 

"I  say,  Mr.  Venable,"  he  called  after  the  other,  "will  you 
marry  Zeo  and  the  governor  ?  You'd  better  :  there'll  be  lots 
of  cake." 

But  this  last  information  was  lost  upon  the  other,  as  he 
strode  away  down  the  beach  ;  nor  did  he  look  up  until  smit- 
ten by  a  whiff  of  foul  smell  off  the  flats,  from  which  the  tide 
had  gone  out. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  as  he  looked,  but  without  stopping,  over 
the  slimy  expanse  of  green  mire,  "  I  suppose  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  have  the  tide  go  out  in  me,  until  I  know  how  much 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  25  / 

mud  and  offal,  what  a  rottenness  of  dead  things  and  detesta- 
ble stenches,  there  are  in  my  inmost  heart.  All  the  processes 
of  God  are  to  make  the  sea  ebb  out  for  that.  Yes ;  and  to 
make  it  flow  in  again  afterward,  when  the  lowest  ebb  is 
reached.  Grit  is  right,  —  his  sister,  I  mean.  When  we  are 
desperate  in  regard  to  any  thing,  the  instant  we  find  that 
we  cannot  do  it  ourselves,  that  instant  we  begin  to  try  to  get 
God  to  do  it  for  us."  He  walked  the  more  rapidly  until  he 
reached  his  room  at  Mr.  Parsons's.  Once  there  he  locked 
himself  in ;  nor  did  all  the  entreaties  first,  and  then  the 
wrath,  of  Owny  outside,  avail  to  secure  her  an  entrance  for 
the  rest  of  that  day. 


258  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  TIDE  BEGINS  TO  RETURN  AGAIN. 

MR.  VENABLE  arose  early  next  morning,  saddled 
a  young  horse  assigned  him  by  Mr.  Parsons,  and 
rode  down  the  beach.  All  that  his  horse  had  learned  so  far 
was  to  stand  still,  or  to  go  as  if  destruction  were  at  its  heels ; 
and  the  air  was  all  the  fresher  by  reason  of  the  rate  at  which 
they  went.  There  was  a  pleasure,  too,  in  being  the  first 
person  along  the  surf  that  morning,  a  subtle  gratification 
such  as  one  takes  in  unfolding  a  daily  damp  from  the  press, 
in  cutting  the  pages  of  a  book  just  published,  in  playing 
with  a  child  having  the  dewy  charm  upon  its  brow  of  laugh- 
ing little  Owny,  —  the  delight  of  getting  back  to  Eden  and 
the  beginning  of  things.  The  swift  speed  over  the  wet  sand 
and  along  the  lines  of  bubbles  left  by  the  retreating  waves 
was  as  near  that  of  flight  through  the  air  as  one  can  attain, 
and  it  was  long  before  he  could  draw  rein.  When  he  did, 
it  was  to  dismount,  fasten  his  horse  to  a  drifted  log,  throw 
off  his  clothes,  and  plunge  into  the  sea.  It  seemed  to  be  as 
illimitable  as  the  atmosphere,  and  more  palpable  to  his  en- 
joyment ;  and  he  surrendered  himself  to  the  billows  as  he 
had  done  to  his  horse.  The  difficulty  with  him  in  bathing 
was  now,  as  it  always  had  been,  to  come  out  again ;  and  it 
was  not  until  the  sun,  peering  above  the  level  sand,  had 
fairly  detached  itself  from  the  horizon,  that  he  consented  to 
enter  with  it  upon  the  duty  of  the  day  by  dressing  and  gal- 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  259 

loping  back.  Even  then  it  was  a  shame  to  carry  so  keen  an 
appetite  to  Mrs.  Parsons's  breakfast-table ;  and  he  paused 
before  he  entered  the  house,  under  the  fig-trees,  to  eat 
a  few  of  the  blue  and  purple  figs  which  covered  the  grass, 
trembling  in  luscious  ripeness  upon  the  low  branches,  to  fall 
thither  in  a  moment. 

"  When  I  was  at  the  North,"  he  said  as  he  ate,  "  men  and 
women  were  as  hard  to  win  as  the  hickory-nut  or  chestnut 
in  its  burr :  here  they  drop  into  any  honest  and  cordial  hand 
as  easily  as  "  — and  he  touched  and  received  into  his  palm 
a  plump  fig  —  "  this  fruit.  Except  Commodore  Grandheur, 
and  he  is  yielding  at  last.  But  ah  !  will  not  the  governor 
find  it  so  with  Miss  Zeo  ?  Yet,  as  I  took  oath  when  I  first 
awoke,  to-day  I  will  not  think  of  her  !  Till  I  die  I  will  not 
despair ;  but,  please  Heaven,  there  is  another  than  she  to  be 
won  first." 

After  breakfast,  he  refreshed  himself  further  by  kissing 
little  Owny  upon  her  rosy  cheeks ;  and,  obtaining  a  solemn 
promise  from  her  that  she  would  not  hammer  with  her  fists 
upon  his  door  till  dinner-time,  he  hastened  to  his  room. 
He  had  already  prepared  a  specially  elaborate  discourse  for 
Sunday.  Tearing  this  to  pieces  as  a  good  beginning,  and 
taking  a  suitable  text,  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  planted 
Gen.  Buttolph  in  imagination  before  him,  and  proceeded  to 
say  to  him,  as  distinctly  and  as  directly  as  it  could  be  done 
without  giving  offence,  precisely  what  he  thought  of  him, 
and  of  the  inevitable  result  to  which  that  genial  individual 
was  hastening. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday.  There  were  fewer  at  church 
than  he  had  feared.  But  he  was  strangely  indifferent  to 
this ;  as  much  so  as  an  arrow  is  to  the  air  when  sufficient 
aim  and  impulse  has  been  given  to  it.  With  a  subtle  avoid- 
ance of  offending  any  one,  which  was  part  of  his  power,  he 
merely  said  over  again  in  his  sermon  to  the  portly  general 
sitting  in  front,  as  well  as  to  every  person  there,  according  to 


26O  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

his  besetting  sin,  what  as  to  guilt  and  danger  that  individual 
was  saying  to  himself  already ;  and  so  ended.  He  did  not 
need  that  any  one  should  inform  him  as  to  the  effect ;  for  he 
knew  that  people  assure  each  other  only  where  matters  are 
so  uncertain  as  to  need  assurance. 

"  My  wife,"  Capt.  Chaffin  lingered  after  service  to  say 
to  him,  "  has  something  she  is  dying  to  tell  you.  Weemen 
are  dedicate,"  continued  the  mariner,  in  a  troubled  way. 
"  All  I  ask  is,  when  she  does  tell  you  —  and  she  may  never 
do  it  —  please  say  nothing  about  it  till  you've  seen  me  first. 
She  is  so  very  small  a  craft,  carries  so  few  tons  and  so  much 
engine,  draws  so  little  water  for  the  size  of  her  soul,  —  oh  ! 
you  know  what  I  mean,  sir,  —  that  I  am  always  afraid  — 
afraid  "  — 

"She  has  already  spoken  to  me,"  the  other  said,  not 
thrown  from  his  certainty  of  results  by  an  interruption  even 
of  such  a  sort.  "  I  thanked  her  heartily,  but  I  have  not 
done  enough  to  have  my  portrait  painted  yet.  Please  ex- 
cuse me  to  her,  captain,  and  say  "  — 

"  It  isn't  that,  it  isn't  that,"  the  husband  broke  in.  "  You 
never  fear  !  A  grander  idea  has  driven  that  clean  out.  It 
is,  I  do  suppose,"  he  said,  eagerly  yet  watching  the  face  of 
the  other  with  an  almost  pitiful  anxiety,  "  the  grandest,  the 
very  grandest  idea,  a  woman  ever  had  !  '  You  have  no  no- 
tion, sir,  how  grand  it  is  !  It  will  strike  you  at  first  like  "  — 
with  the  same  covert  scrutiny  of  the  face  of  the  other,  as  if 
for  a  suspicious  smile  —  "  like  a  squall !  But  what  I  want 
to  say  is  —  is  —  it  must  be  weathered  like  a  squall,  too. 
Don't  you  say  yes,  I  mean,  until  you  see  me  ;  and  don't  tell 
anybody  about  it.  You  won't,  will  you  ?  " 

"Certainly  not,"  Mr.  Venable  said  without  a  gleam  of 
amusement  in  his  countenance.  "  I  understand  perfectly," 
he  added,  with  grave  respect. 

The  face  of  the  captain  was  rigid,  and  more  of  the  hue 
of  walnut  than  before.  It  was  the  increasing  wear  and 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  26 1 

tear,  as  of  salt  seas  and  hard  storms,  beginning  to  leave 
deeper  marks  in  the  honest  wood  of  which  he  seemed, 
more  than  ever,  to  be  made.  There  was  a  hesitation  and 
yet  an  enthusiasm,  a  dignity  and  yet  a  shamefacedness,  in 
his  assertions  about  his  gifted  wife,  which  had  always 
touched  the  other  to  the  soul. 

"  It  is  the  case  of  young  Plenty  and  old  Plenty  over 
again,"  he  thought,  as  he  walked  home.  "  I  wonder  how 
much  lying  such  love  can  excuse.  Two  idiot  children,  Mr. 
Parsons  said,  and  a  crazy  wife  ?  If  the  captain  is  a  fool  for 
a  fourth,  Heaven  ranks  such  folly  above  the  highest  wisdom. 
O  Love,  Love,  you  are  indeed  —  God  !  " 

Owing  to  the  scant  attendance  at  evening  services  at  that 
season  of  the  year,  notice  had  been  given  that  there  would 
be  a  conference  meeting  at  night  instead  of  sermon,  to  be 
held  in  the  vestry  instead  of  the  church  proper.  When  Mr. 
Venable  arrived  at  the  usual  hour,  he  was  surprised  to  find 
the  room  crowded,  although  individuals  and  numbers  had 
both  ceased  to  have  the  weight  with  him,  somehow,  they 
had  possessed  till  that  day.  He  imagined  that  Miss  Aurelia 
Jones  bowed  as  she  passed  him,  as  he  was  pausing  a  mo- 
ment with  Commodore  Grandheur  in  the  vestibule,  less 
coldly  than  of  late.  Certainly  the  commodore  was  cordial 
enough.  "  I  was  just  saying  to  Mr.  Nogens,"  he  remarked, 
"  that  you  showed  excellent  sense  in  your  way  of  silencing 
Mr.  Quatty  —  by  that  plan  of  the  hall.  We  will  not  be 
troubled  with  him  any  more." 

There  seemed  to  be  deeper  feeling  than  usual  in  the  meet- 
ing which  ensued.  Mrs.  Chaffingsby  even  ventured  to  join 
in  the  singing  in  her  thin  treble.  It  was  plain  from  Father 
Fethero's  prayer,  that  he  had  repented  of  his  discouraging 
words,  it  was  so  hopeful  in  comparison  to  any  thing  before. 
There  had  been  one  or  two  deaths  in  the  church,  and  the 
pastor  dwelt  with  special  solemnity  upon  the  uncertainty  of 
life.  No  one  cared  even  to  see  whether  Mr.  Quatty  was 


262  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

present.  As  the  service  drew  to  a  close,  it  became  more 
solemn  with  every  hymn  and  prayer.  Commodore  Grand- 
heur  had  never  spoken  with  such  weight.  The  grief  of  those 
who  had  lost  their  relatives  was  contagious,  and  many  were 
weeping.  As  Mr.  Parsons  seated  himself  after  one  of  his 
rapid  prayers,  a  voice  from  the  back  seat  said,  and  very 
gravely,  — 

"  Let  us  pray.  —  Thou  knowest,  O  Lord,"  it  continued, 
"  that  we  are  but  for  an  hour.  The  wickedest  men  of  this 
wicked  region  had  been  packed  off,  thou  knowest,  upon 
that  steamship.  Has  not  thy  servant  heard,  as  he  came  here 
to-night,  that  the  Nautilus  has  at  last  gone  down  at  sea, 
every  soul  lost?  Dreadfully  not  ready  !  Surely  our  life  is 
vain  "  —  and  the  supplication  proceeded  in  language  of 
even  thrilling  power  and  pathos. 

It  was  wonderful.  So  unlike  were  the  tones,  words,  entire 
manner  of  Mr.  Quatty,  —  who  had  never  led  in  prayer 
before,  —  to  any  thing  previously  heard  from  his  lips,  that 
people  were  some  time  in  satisfying  themselves  —  peeping, 
in  some  cases,  through  their  hands  held  over  their  faces  — 
that  it  was  the  man ;  but  there  was  neither  indignation  nor 
amusement  by  the  time  they  were  sure.  A  better  prayer  had 
never  been  put  up.  The  words  were  homely,  but  the  hon- 
est and  sincere  heart  palpitated  in  every  syllable.  Every 
eye  was  moist  when  he  sat  down.  The  special  importunity 
of  Mr.  Quatty  was  for  a  deeper  and  more  general  interest  in 
religion  ;  and  all  agreed  that  the  new  interest  which  followed 
dated  from  that  hour. 

Among  the  unusual  events,  Miss  Irene  had  attended  the 
meeting,  bringing  Mr.  Fanthorp  with  her.  Gov.  Magruder 
had  dropped  in  at  the  close  to  escort  Miss  Zeo  home, 
although  the  fact  that  it  was  Sunday  diminished  to  a  fearful 
degree  the  topics  upon  which  that  statesman  could  converse. 
Even  the  presence  of  the  man  he  most  dreaded  did  not 
turn  the  minister  from  his  aim,  nor  slacken  his  impulse  :  he 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  263 

and  Gen.  Buttolph  walked  silently  together  through  the 
night.  As  they  neared  the  general's  house,  the  younger  of 
the  two  proposed  that  they  should  stroll  on  toward  the  surf 
before  the  general  went  in ;  and  the  impulse  upon  his  part 
was  in  close  sympathy  with  the  yielding  upon  the  part  of  the 
other. 

Gen.  Buttolph  was  a  magnificent  person  to  look  at.  Re- 
puted the  wealthiest  planter  of  that  region,  always  hand- 
somely if  carelessly  dressed,  generous  and  hospitable,  there 
was  a  certain  Assyrian  assumption  in  him  which  made  peo- 
ple yield  even  where  he  was  too  indolent  to  command, 
possibly  unconscious  of  any  desire  to  that  effect.  And  yet 
he  was  at  last  merely  an  overgrown  boy.  All  that  Grit  was 
when  Zeo  returned  from  school,  he  was,  save  upon  a  larger 
and  more  decorous  scale ;  as  reckless  beneath  all  the  pro- 
prieties as  he.  When  the  two  men  had  reached  the  sea- 
shore he  turned  and  said,  "  Do  you  know,  sir,  that  you  have 
done  a  perilous  thing  to-day?  " 

"  I  do,"  Mr.  Venable  replied  gravely. 

"It  is  the  first  time  any  man  has  dared  to  attempt  it,  sir," 
he  added. 

"  Is  it?  I  can  only  say,  sir,"  the  other  remarked  respect- 
fully but  earnestly,  "  that  I  would  have  done  it  long  ago, 
had  I  known.  I  had  no  wish  to  offend  you,  general,  but 
I  am  in  St.  Jerome  to  do  what  I  tried  to  do  to-day." 

Some  storm  had  hurled  a  timber  like  a  javelin  into  the 
beach  near  them ;  and  the  general  laid  one  hand  upon  the 
projecting  end,  and,  while  the  minister  was  sure  of  nothing 
beyond  his  duty  to  the  slave  of  appetite  before  him,  extended 
the  other  to  him  in  the  moonlight,  saying,  "  I  honor  you, 
sir  !  You  are  right !  My  father  had  certain  habits,  as  did 
my  brothers.  His  death,  their  death,  was  a  relief  to  us.  I 
have  been  going  the  same  way,  have  been  transmitting  our 
family  curse  to  Grit.  Zeo  has  long  entreated  me,  but  you 
have  brought  matters  to-day  to  a  conclusion.  I  thank  you, 


264  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

sir,  but  it  is  not  to  you  I  yield  :  it  is  to  my  dead  wife  and  to 
Zeo  ;  "  and  to  the  astonishment  of  his  companion  the  voice 
of  the  other  faltered,  broke ;  and  there  followed  such  a  con- 
versation between  the  two  as  rarely  befalls,  and  when  it 
does  admits  of  no  third  party.  Except  that  he  was  himself 
no  Daniel,  it  was  to  Mr.  Venable  like  the  downfall  before  him 
of  a  king  of  Babylon.  "  Good-night,"  Gen.  Buttolph  said 
to  him  at  last ;  "  but  remember,  sir,  I  do  not  bind  myself 
beyond  the  end  of  this  year.  By  that  time  I  will  be  able  to 
judge,  but  not  beyond  then.  Good-night,  sir,  I  must  go  in  : 
I  wish  to  see  my  daughter." 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  265 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

IN    WHICH    PEOPLE    OF   DIVERSE   KINDS  ARE  NOT   MORE   MDCED 
UP  THAN  THEY   OFTEN  ARE   IN  THIS  TANGLED   LIFE. 

MISS  ZEO  was  so  long  in  leaving  the  church  on  the 
Sunday  morning  following  upon  this,  that  Mr.  Venable 
could  not  help,  as  he  came  down  the  pulpit-steps  after  ser- 
vice, saying  a  word  to  her.  She  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  her 
soul  in  them,  gave  him  her  hand,  said,  "  I  thank  you,  sir,"  in 
a  low  voice,  and  hastened  down  the  aisle  to  join  her  father. 
It  took  but  a  moment,  it  gave  him  a  thrill  of  pleasure  ;  yet 
she  would  hardly  have  had  the  heart  to  do  it  if  she  had 
known  what  mortal  pain,  too,  it  was  to  him. 

"How  can  I  endure,"  he  groaned  to  himself,  "to  see 
her  the  wife  of  another?  "  So  far  as  he  knew,  her  marriage 
with  Gov.  Magruder  was  settled.  The  papers  throughout 
the  State  were  filled  with  intimations  of  his  election  to  the 
United  States  Senate  before  long,  some  allusion  to  a  bride 
always  accompanying  them  ;  and  the  derisive  congratulations 
upon  his  reform  from  his  bachelor  ways  were  numerous. 
The  pressure  of  her  hand,  the  gratitude  of  her  eyes,  these 
were  to  Mr.  Venable  like  the  light  from  the  bayou-boat 
upon  the  forest  ahead  :  they  merely  showed  how  impenetra- 
ble was  his  path.  "  But,"  he  thought,  "  I  can  but  make  an 
effort  to  advance  steadily  day  by  day.  It  is  all  I  can  do." 

The  next  day  Grit  hailed  him  as  he  was  walking  to  the 
post-office. 


266  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"  I  say,  Mr.  Venable,  Zeo's  got  that  key,"  the  boy  said, 
as  he  walked  beside  him. 

"  Key?  "  his  companion  asked. 

"  Don't  pretend  you  don't  know,  Mr.  Venable  :  pa's  key, 
the  key  of  the  sideboard  where  the  decanter  is,"  Grit  ex- 
plained. "  She's  got  it  on  a  ribbon  around  her  neck.  I 
saw  it  one  night  when  I  was  kneeling  by  her  to  say  my 
prayers,  and  I  twitched  it  out.  Oh,  but  pa  he  gets  restless 
about  bedtime  !  He  misses  it  awfully.  Zeo  she  sings  and 
plays  for  him,  reads  to  him,  tells  him  all  the  funny  things 
she  can  think  of.  She  beats  Irene  at  that,  because,  you 
see,  I  help  her.  Oh,  but  Zeo  is  good  as  wheat !  One 
night"  — 

But  his  companion  would  not  allow  him  to  say  more. 
He  was  glad  of  this  confirmation  of  his  hopes,  it  thrilled 
him  to  hear  the  name  even  of  the  daughter ;  but  his 
thoughts  turned  again,  after  parting  with  Grit,  to  the  extra 
services  upon  which  his  church  was  now  entered.  These 
continued  during  several  weeks  ;  the  interest  spread  to  other 
churches  ;  and  in  the  end  quite  a  number  were  added  to  the 
First  Church  as  the  result. 

One  day  toward  the  close  of  these  special  services,  Mr. 
Parsons  asked  Mr.  Venable  at  dinner  to  call  at  Gen.  But- 
tolph's,  and  beg  Miss  Zeo  not  to  be  late  on  the  ground  for 
the  trial  trip  of  his  greatly-improved  terraqueous  machine, 
his  invitation  having  been  already  accepted. 

"  Be  sure  and  don't  forget,"  Mrs.  Parsons  added,  but  in 
such  a  way  as  to  bring  the  blood  to  the  face  of  her  guest. 

"I  love  Miss  Zeo  too,"  little  Owny  said,  in  the  pause 
which  followed ;  for  she  seemed  in  this,  as  in  every  thing 
else,  to  get  as  much  now  as  before  her  birth,  soul  as  well 
as  body,  from  her  mother.  Whatever  Mrs.  Parsons  thought 
and  felt,  Owny  did  too,  and  at  the  same  instant.  "  That's 
all  the  cause  why  I  go  to  Sunny  school,"  the  child  added, 
"  to  be  her  'ittle  girl.  She  is  my  one.  Div  her  a  tiss,  Mr. 


A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  267 

Venny,  and  tell  her  Owny  sent  it."  But  all  that  the  mother 
said  in  parting  with  him  when  he  left,  soon  after  dinner,  was, 
"  I  would  call,  if  I  were  you,"  and  with  such  a  serious  face 
that  he  walked  away,  his  heart  beating  as  if  in  fever  —  in 
fever,  and  aware  that  the  finger  of  this  female  practitioner 
was  upon  his  pulse. 

But  he  did  not  go  in  when  he  got  to  the  general's  man- 
sion. He  had  not  been  there  for  many  weeks;  and  the 
same  pretence  of  the  repairs  going  on  was  rendered  now, 
as  he  stood  hat  in  hand  on  the  veranda. 

"Tell  Mr.  Parsons  that  I'll  not  be  there,  for  one,"  Irene 
said.  "  I  think  it  is  shameful,  Mr,  Venable.  Just  as  the 
religious  interest  is  decreasing,  too  ! "  for,  after  vehemently 
refusing  to  attend  church  at  all  when  the  revival  had  begun, 
she  had  yielded  to  it  as  violently  at  last.  Miss  Aurelia 
Jones  herself  was  not  as  faithful  in  her  attendance,  or  as 
fervid,  apparently,  in  her  devotions. 

"  Mr.  Parsons  is  compelled  to  act  at  once  in  order  to 
secure  his  patent,"  Mr.  Venable  explained.  "  The  party  will 
be  small.  I  have  come  to  know  Mr.  Parsons,"  he  added ; 
"  and  the  sole  purpose  of  the  man  in  his  desperate  efforts 
is  to  be  able  to  give,  —  to  give  millions  if  he  can.  Of  all 
men,  he  has  the  deepest  conviction  that  it  is  nothing  less 
than  millions  will  do  to  spread  the  gospel ; "  and  it  was  said 
earnestly.  But  the  speaker  seemed  embarrassed,  and  anx- 
ious to  get  away ;  the  more  so,  as  there  was  a  change  in 
Miss  Zeo  standing  there.  It  was  a  certain  something  in  her 
which  he  felt  rather  than  saw,  much  less  understood.  She 
appeared  to  be  no  longer  the  girl,  firm  and  steady  and 
strong,  whom  she  had  been.  Her  sister  seemed,  since  he 
had  last  conversed  with  them,  to  have  become  her  superior, 
certainly  for  the  first  time.  There  was  no  such  weakness  as 
downcast  eyes  and  drooping  manner  and  hesitating  speech 
in  the  elder  of  the  two. 

"  She  is  overcome,"  the  visitor  said  to  himself,  "  as  we  all 


268  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

are,  by  the  sultry  season ;  and  how  sorely  she  is  overtasked  ! 
the  dead  weight  of  her  father  has  been,  at  least,  so  long  upon 
her  heart !  A  boy  from  the  sheep-folds  slew  Goliath  with  his 
sling,  and  was  done  with  it ;  but  this  girl  had  to  grasp  her 
giant,  and  to  lift  him  clean  off  the  earth,  has  had  to  stand 
night  and  day,  her  Goliath  held  alive  and  struggling  in  the 
air,  and  against  an  appetite  dragging  at  him  as  steadily  as 
gravitation." 

Such  was  his  thought ;  and  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  leave 
his  message,  and  be  gone.  Had  she  met  him  with  the 
serene  front,  with  the  dark  eyes  full  of  silent  power,  as  01 
old,  it  would  have  been  different ;  but  she  seemed  to-day  so 
womanly  in  her  weakness,  was  so  humble  and  without  self- 
reliance,  that  he  was  bewildered,  and  he  hastened  to  speak 
of  the  church-work  in  which  they  had  all  been  engaged. 
There  was  the  Bethel  for  seamen,  which  was  in  such  a  thriv- 
ing condition  in  the  market-house.  "  Commodore  Grand- 
heur  is  in  charge,"  he  explained.  "  The  sight  of  the  blue 
shirts  and  glazed  hats  assembled  before  him  made  him  a 
little  too  much  as  if  upon  the  quarter-deck  again  at  first :  he 
was  ordering  them  to  repent  and  be  Christians  as  if  it  were 
to  hoist  anchor  or  reef  sail.  There  was  a  mutiny ;  but  his  own 
good  sense,  as  well  as  Capt.  Chaffin,  came  to  his  assistance. 
And  only  think,  ladies,"  Mr.  Venable  went  on  rapidly,  "  Mr. 
Quatty  has  never  informed  a  soul,  since  the  interest  began, 
that  he  was  once  an  oysterman.  He  is  at  every  meeting,  is 
an  incessant  worker  among  the  roughs  of  the  city,  lets  no 
man  have  a  horse  or  buggy  from  his  stable  without  a  tract 
and  a  word  of  exhortation ;  but  in  meetings  all  he  has  to  say 
is  not  to  man,  but  to  Heaven.  I  believe  his  prayers  are  as 
effective  with  God  as  with  man.  My  impression  is,"  he 
added  with  a  smile,  "  that  Heaven  likes  just  such  men  :  it  is 
he  who  is  Peter  over  again  without  the  denying  of  his  Mas- 
ter. I  like  Mr.  Quatty  heartily.  And  look  at  Father  Feth- 
ero :  he  has  laid  off  his  gloom  with  his  glasses.  Did  you 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  269 

ever  see  such  a  transformation  ?  he  is  whole  years  younger. 
I  understand  better  than  ever  the  change  Heaven  can  make 
in  us." 

"  And  what  does  Mr.  Nogens  say  ?  "  Zeo  ventured. 

"  Oh  !  he  merely  says,  'Yes,'  "  Mr.  Venable  replied  ;  "but 
he  says  it  more  earnestly ;  and  he  rubs  his  hands  together  in 
saying  it,  as  if  he  were  intending  after  a  while  to  say  some- 
thing besides.  What  I  am  glad  of,"  he  added  gravely,  "  is 
the  depth  of  feeling,  the  seriousness  which  seems  to  rest  on 
all.  We  preachers  thought  the  power  was  to  be  in  our  ser- 
mons ;  but  these  last  weeks  I  see,  for  one,  that  the  strong 
wind  which  changes  the  world  is  something  more  than  the 
breath,  in  any  shape,  from  my  lips." 

"  You  preach  a  thousand  times  better  than  you  did  before," 
Irene  remarked  impulsively. 

"Thank  you;  but  if  I  do,"  said  the  other  with  kindling 
eyes,  "  it  is  because  I  have  stopped  preaching.  I  never 
before  knew  there  was  so  much  wheat  and  honey,  gold,  sil- 
ver, and  precious  stones,  in  Scripture,  and  in  the  very  words 
of  Scripture.  All  I  do  is  to  show  others  the  richness  I  find 
there ;  and  it  has  a  value  and  a  simplicity  I  never  knew 
before.  I  come  every  day  upon  some  verse  which  satisfies 
one  as  gold  does  debt :  it  suits  hunger  and  thirst  like  bread 
and  water ;  and  I  try  to  give  it  as  I  get  it.  I  cannot  say  how 
beautiful  and  valuable  it  all  seems  to  me.  But  I  must  go." 

"  Tell  Mr.  Parsons  I  won't  come.  And  you  can't  know, 
Mr.  Venable,"  Irene  added,  "how  hard  I  am  trying  with  Mr. 
Fanthorp,  to  make  him  good,  I  mean ;  but  he  has  a  worse 
devil  than  any  the  Bible  talks  about,  —  a  laughing-devil. 
He  won't  be  serious  one  instant ;  and  he  makes  me  laugh 
too.  I  bite  my  lips,  and  clench  my  hands,  but  it  is  no  use. 
You  need  not  look  so  wise,  sir  :  there's  not  a  particle  of  truth 
in  it.  Farce  Fanthorp,  indeed  !  I  am  as  fond  of  fun  as  any 
one,  but  I  hope  to  look  higher  than  Mr.  .Fanthorp  for  a  hus- 
band. No,  sir,"  she  added  with  energy,  —  "  not  if  I  know 


2/O  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

myself.  I  would  not  allude  to  the  matter,  but,"  with  great 
dignity,  "  I  know  it  is  generally  reported,  and  I  want  to  deny 
it.  The  idea  !  "  — "  Good-by,  ladies,"  their  visitor  said, 
again  going.  "  Here's  Zeo,"  the  impetuous  young  lady  add- 
ed. —  "I  know  Mr.  Fanthorp  manages  pa's  plantation.  Pa 
says  he  and  young  Plenty  do  it  splendidly.  Perhaps  so ;  but 
he  cannot  manage  me  !  Now,  if  you  were  to  talk  about  the 
governor  !  I  believe  you  are  afraid  of  Zeo,  Mr.  Venable  :  I 
am  not.  And  I  do  believe  she  is  afraid  of  you  :  I  am  not, 
one  bit.  What  is  the  reason,"  she  went  on,  thinking  aloud, 
and  not  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  "  that  you  two  seem  to 
have  such  an  aversion  to  each  other  ?  You  might  at  least  be 
friends.  /  like  you,  Mr.  Venable,"  she  said,  "  not  as  much 
as  Miss  Aurelia  Jones  does,  I  mean  did.  Yes,"  she  added, 
"  only  less  than  I  do  Col.  Roland.  Wait  a  moment "  — 
But  their  visitor,  laughing,  and  lifting  his  hat,  ran  down  the 
steps  of  the  veranda,  and  was  gone,  sorry  and  glad  that  he 
staid  so  long. 

He  slackened  his  pace  after  he  had  got  out  of  sight.  It 
was  late  in  September.  The  heat  was  heavier  even  than  it 
was  hot.  He  took  off  his  hat,  and  stood  still,  looking  around 
while  he  wiped  his  forehead.  In  the  slumberous  silence  he 
could  hear  the  monotone  of  the  surf,  sounding  once  so 
wildly  to  him  as  out  of  Story  and  Song,  but  subsided  now  into 
one  of  the  commonplaces  of  life.  The  sky  was  cloudless, 
as  usual,  but  not  clear.  It  was  as  if  its  deep  blue  had  settled 
down  upon  the  sand  and  sea  much  more  closely.  The  ole- 
ander and  china  trees  were  motionless  in  every  leaf  as  if 
waiting.  The  romance  still  lingered  to  him  in  the  orchards 
of  lemon  and  orange ;  but  they  were  all  adust  and  dry,  the 
vast  leaves  of  the  banana-plants  hanging  in  yellow  shreds 
about  the  arch  of  their  stems.  He  had  ceased  long  ago  to 
notice  specially  the  swift-jacks,  or  their  less  brilliant  relatives 
the  horned  frogs,  flitting  about  in  the  prickly  grass,  or  darting 
across  the  white  dust  or  brown  sand  of  the  streets.  But  now 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  27! 

he  saw  many  of  them  lying  panting,  with  outstretched  legs 
and  open  mouths,  on  the  wayside.  It  was  as  if  something 
were  impending.  The  air  seemed  to  be  heavy  with  doom ; 
and  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  have  ten  minutes  to  spare.  Yonder 
is  Mr.  Nogens's  house.  I'll  make  Mrs.  Nogens  hear  this 
time,  if  I  die  for  it." 

After  leaving  Mr.  Nogens's  house,  as  he  turned  a  corner 
on  his  way  back  to  Mr.  Parsons's  place  he  came  upon  Miss 
Zeo  on  her  road  thither. 

"  I  have  just  made  a  call  upon  Mrs.  Nogens,"  he  ex- 
plained ;  and,  in  order  to  conceal  his  satisfaction,  "  it  was 
literally  a  call,  —  as  loud  a  call  as  I  could.  After  all,  I  fear 
she  did  not  hear  a  word.  She  is  so  willing  to  hear,  so 
anxious  to  hear,  that  I'm  afraid  she  says  she  hears  when 
she  don't,  smiling  and  nodding  her  head." 

"  I'm  obliged  to  go  to  Mr.  Parsons,"  his  companion 
hastened  to  explain,  "because  he  said  that  he  would  not 
give  another  picayune  for  Father  Fethero  if  I  didn't.  Grit 
went  on  before  me,  he  was  so  impatient.  —  How  are  you, 
Clara?  " 

This  was  said,  as  they  passed  along  the  paling  of  Capt. 
Chaffin's  grounds,  to  the  captain's  daughter,  who  was  lean- 
ing against  it  from  within,  her  face  pressed  like  a  caged  crea- 
ture against  the  fence. 

"  There  are  thousands  on  thousands  of  people  in  there," 
she  said,  putting  a  hand  between  the  palings  to  be  shaken. 
"  I  am  so  tired  of  them  !  and  ma  will  keep  on  making 
more.  Stop  a  moment.  You  can  talk.  They  never  do,  — 
not  to  me." 

"  Are  all  well  ?  "  Zeo  replied  kindly,  endeavoring  to  pass. 

"  Charlie  is.  He  sleeps  and  eats.  When  I  go  by  them 
at  night,"  she  continued,  laying  hold  upon  Zeo's  shoulder, 
"  with  a  candle,  they  waver  and  wink.  But  they  don't  in 
the  day.  They  are  all  throwing  their  hands  about,  running 
as  hard  as  they  can,  quarrelling  and  carrying  on,  until  I  get 


2/2  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

in  the  room,  you  see.  The  moment  I  open  the  door,  they 
stand  stock  still,  holding  their  breath  till  I  get  by.  I  tell 
you,  but  they  all  go  at  it  again  when  I'm  out.  I  listen  at 
the  keyhole,  and  peep.  Sometimes  I  creep  up,  and  open 
the  door  sudden.  But  they  are  too  smart.  I  catch  them 
all  in  a  tremble,  but  they  are  stock  still  again.  Charlie 
laughs :  he  doesn't  care.  I  do.  There  are  too  many  of 
us  to  be  in  one  house  this  hot  time.  They  crowd  one  so  ! 
Sometimes  I  can  hardly  breathe.  Kiss  me  good-by."  As 
the  poor  girl  said  it,  she  stood  up  on  the  lower  bar  of  the 
fence,  and  leaned  over  her  beautiful  face,  holding  with  both 
hands  to  the  pointed  pickets. 

"  That  I  will,"  said  Zeo  tenderly,  one  hand  upon  either 
cheek  of  the  other  as  she  did  so  once  and  again ;  and  the 
faces  of  the  two,  brought  into  such  contrast,  thrilled  the 
looker-on  like  strange  music.  The  one  face  exquisitely  fair, 
the  other  dark  and  sweet,  —  the  hair  of  the  one  hanging 
down  in  loose  abundance  as  she  bent  over  the  fence,  a  mere 
child  without  a  thought  or  care ;  the  other  younger,  yet  so 
many  ages  older,  the  shadow  as  well  as  the  strength  of  her 
life  in  her  eyes,  and  upon  her  lips  and  brow. 

"  Good-by,  lady.  —  And  won't  you  kiss  me  too?  "  the  girl 
added,  still  holding  on  to  the  paling,  and  bending  over 
toward  the  gentleman,  her  full  child's  eyes  on  his,  her  child's 
mouth  held  up  like  little  Owny  at  home.  "  They  are  so 
high  up  I  can't  reach  them,  and  they  won't  stoop  down.  I 
want  to  love  somebody.  Kiss  me,  please." 

"  Kiss  her,  Mr.  Venable,"  Zeo  said,  as  he  stood  irresolute. 
He  did  so,  the  tears  in  his  eyes.  With  the  pressure  of  his 
lips  upon  the  rosy  mouth  held  out  to  him,  he  passed  on 
with  his  companion. 

Nothing  was  said ;  for  they  were  behind  time  with  Mr. 
Parsons,  as  he  was  prompt  to  tell  them  upon  their  arrival. 

"  There  is  no  hiding  any  thing  now,"  he  was  explaining, 
when  they  joined  the  friends  assembled  in  the  parlor. 


A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  2/3 

"  This  is  by  broad  day,  and  in  an  open  car.  —  Humph  !  is 
that  you,  Miss  Irene  ? "  he  added,  as  that  lady  came  in 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Fanthorp.  "  I  hoped  you  were  not 
coming.  We  don't  want  any  more  screaming  at  nothing, 
and  such  fiddlesticks." 

"  I  said  I  would  not  go,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  here  is  poor 
Mr.  Fanthorp  :  he  came  and  begged  me  to  go  and  take  care 
of  him.  I'm  not  afraid." 

"  Don't  go,"  Mrs.  Parsons  said,  standing  among  the  party, 
with  Owny  —  both  of  them  rosier  than  ever  —  clinging 
to  her  dress.  "  Don't  go,  Commodore  Grandheur.  —  Be 
persuaded,  Miss  Aurelia,"  she  said ;  for  these  two  had  taken 
the  place  of  Capt.  Chaffin  and  Mr.  Quatty,  who  had  refused 
to  be  present.  "  You  know  I  warned  you  all  before.  Owny 
and  I  are  too  sensible."  And  she  continued  her  warnings, 
laughing  and  shaking  hands  in  farewell. 

"  No,  I  won't  tiss  you,"  Owny  said,  shaking  a  coquettish 
head  at  Col.  Roland.  "Dere's  too  much  folks  to  tiss. — 
Mr.  Venny,  you  may  tiss  me  for  dem  all,"  she  proposed. 
To  the  surprise  of  the  child's  mother,  as  well  as  Owny,  that 
gentleman  did  not  seem  to  hear :  the  kiss  of  poor  Clara  was 
too  fresh  upon  his  lips  ;  and  Zeo  did  so  instead. 

"  No  concealment,  you  see,"  the  inventor  said,  as  he  led 
his  company  out  of  the  grounds  and  over  the  sands,  to  a  large 
open  wagon  standing  on  the  beach.  "  It  is  nothing  at  all 
but  a  car,  with,  as  you  observe,  a  mast  in  front.  The  wind 
is  fair  and  strong,  and  all  I  have  to  do  is  to  hoist  this  square 
sail,  as  we  did  the  other  trip.  Vehicles  have  been  made," 
he  added,  as  he  assisted  his  friends  to  seats,  "  to  be  driven 
by  the  wind  over  flat  plains.  This  will  be  a  wonderful  mode 
of  travel  over  the  broad  prairies  of  our  State.  Old  Ugly 
intends  to  urge  my  invention  upon  his  friends  in  the  Legis- 
lature. But  there  are  rivers  to  be  crossed  inland,  as  well 
as  arms  of  the  sea  along  the  coast.  This  machine  utterly 
fails  if  it  will  riot  do  for  water  as  well.  It  is  a  terra- 


2/4  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

queous  machine,  —  for  land  and  water.  Some  day  I  may 
adapt  it  to  the  air.  So  far,  it  succeeds  only  on  earth,  and 
possibly,  for  I  am  not  too  sure,  on  the  sea.  —  Not  there, 
Mr.  Venable,"  he  added,  as  that  gentleman  climbed  in. 
"  You  are  the  youngest  and  smartest.  Take  that  front  seat, 
and  haul  up  the  sail.  The  pulleys  are  my  patent,  and  work 
as  easy  as  eating.  I  will  stand  behind  here,  and  steer.  All 
right !  The  glory  of  this  discovery  lies  in  the  wheels.  If  you 
lean  over  and  look,  you  will  see  they  are  really  screws  also, 
something  like  those  of  a  propeller.  Of  course  we  go  slow- 
ly at  first,"  he  continued,  standing  up,  lean  and  long,  upon 
a  step  in  the  rear,  his  bony  grasp  upon  the  helm  which 
governed  the  steering-wheel.  "Now,  we  don't  want  any 
nonsense  or  fiddlesticks,  no  screaming  or  jumping  out,"  he 
said,  as  the  vehicle,  yielding  to  the  wind,  began  to  move 
slowly  along  upon  the  hard  wet  sand,  in  the  fringe  of  the 
lapping  sea.  "I'll  take  care,  if  you  don't  mind  me,  that 
you  have  something  to  scream  for  when  you  can't  jump 
out.  Hold  tight !  " 

A  strong  wind  was  blowing  up  the  beach.  The  large  sail 
filled,  the  mast  creaked  and  bent,  the  vehicle,  moving  more 
and  more  rapidly,  at  last  fairly  flew  before  the  gale ;  the  in- 
ventor holding  his  hat  on  with  one  hand,  the  other  hand  on 
the  helm,  his  hungry  eyes  fastened  eagerly  upon  the  way 
they  went,  as  they  tore  along. 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  2/5 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

IN  WHICH  TRAGEDY  AND  COMEDY  ARE  NOT  BLENDED  MORE 
THAN  THEY  ARE  APT  TO  BE  EVERYWHERE. 

r  I  "*HREE  o'clock  in  the  afternoon;  a  beautiful  day, 
JL  and  the  wind  blowing  strong  from  the  north-east." 
Col.  Roland  read  it  aloud  from  his  note-book.  The  spirits 
of  the  passengers  rose  as  the  vehicle  flew  more  and  more 
rapidly  along.  Mr.  Parsons  had  taken  a  liking  to  Grit  in 
consequence  of  his  hearty  appreciation,  on  the  previous 
occasion,  of  his  delicacies ;  and  the  wild  enjoyment  of  the 
boy  now  was  but  little  in  advance  of  that  of  the  rest.  Mr. 
Fanthorp  never  had  been  as  droll ;  and  it  was  remembered, 
ah,  how  well !  afterward,  that  they  were  all  in  a  singularly 
good  humor.  Jokes  were  laughed  at,  although  no  one 
waited  to  hear  them  out.  Conundrums  were  accepted  as 
admirable,  apart  from  their  answers.  Puns  and  personalities, 
and  laughter  at  every  thing  and  at  nothing,  seemed  infectious. 
Miss  Aurelia  Jones,  now  as  always  dressed  in  silk,  was  effu- 
sive beyond  her  wont.  Commodore  Grandheur  beside  her 
was  not  at  all  on  his  guard  against  her  any  longer.  All  there 
yielded  to  the  excitement  of  the  hour  as  to  a  needed  diver- 
sion from  more  important  matters.  The  commodore  un- 
bent and  laughed  as  if  the  sea-salt  which  had  lain  so  long  a 
sediment  in  his  veins  had  been  thoroughly  aroused  again. 
But  the  gayety  of  all,  as  they  secretly  acknowledged  to  them- 
selves at  the  time,  was  too  violent,  was  unnatural. 


2/6  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"  We  may  be  lords  of  nature,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  standing 
in  front,  although  nobody  heeded  him  ;  "  but  we  are  noth- 
ing at  last  except  straws  before  a  blast :  we  are  ourselves  — 
see  how  we  are  driven  along  !  —  as  much  a  part  only  of  na- 
ture as  so  many  bubbles." 

Little  he  understood  that  the  jests  and  replies,  flying  so 
fast  between  the  passengers,  were  but  another  kind  from  the 
electric  flashes  when  a  storm  is  coming  on  ;  the  last  outside, 
the  other  within,  and  heralding  a  tempest  then  impending, 
alas !  in  contrast  with  which  every  disaster  experienced 
before  was  but  a  trifle  deserving  laughter. 

All  agreed  afterward  that  Mr.  Parsons  must  have  been 
borne  by  the  contagion  of  the  hour  beyond  the  bounds  of 
sanity.  He  was  so  long  and  lean  and  restless  that  his  wife 
had  often  said  to  him,  "  You  are,  my  dear  Ezra  Micajah,  a  liv- 
ing barometer."  One  thing  was  sure  :  the  soul  of  the  eager 
man,  like  the  quicksilver  in  the  barometer,  rose  and  fell,  and 
too  exclusively  for  health,  in  one  narrow  channel.  Through 
years  of  derision  upon  the  part  of  the  press,  as  well  as  of  all 
his  friends,  —  for  enemies  he  had  none,  —  his  Terraqueous 
Machine  had  been,  among  many  other  projects,  the  hope  of 
his  life.  The  unanimous  opposition  had  merely  banked  his 
mind  in,  and  compelled  it  along  that  single  current,  the 
swifter  for  being  so  narrow.  He  had  counted  upon  making 
a  great  speed  on  this  trial  trip,  but  he  had  not  calculated 
upon  the  excess  thereof  under  the  rising  gale.  Worst  of  all, 
he  had  not  ciphered  out  the  force  of  the  excitement  upon 
himself. 

In  the  very  rush  of  his  machine,  —  his  hand  on  the  helm, 
his  eye  upon  the  beach  extending  before  him,  —  the  enthu- 
siastic visionary  was  standing  also  before  his  blackboard, 
the  chalk  between  his  finger  and  thumb,  going  over  the  old, 
old  figures :  — 

"  A  million  at  least.  One  thousand  is  as  much  as  a  coun- 
try church  ought  to  cost  —  for  steeples  are  fiddlesticks,  so 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

that  this  machine,  if  it  succeeds,  will  put  up  one  thousand 
churches.  Say  missionaries  instead,  —  that  is  one  thousand 
men  at  work  from  California  as  a  centre,  upon  the  Old  World 
as  well  as  the  New.  Or,  say  it  is  Bibles  :  fifty  cents  apiece 
is  enough ;  I'll  print  'em  myself,  —  two  millions  of  Bibles  ! 
The  machine  is  for  water  as  well  as  land.  I'll  do  it !  Yes, 
the  millennium  will  take  millions  to  bring  about.  I'll  do  it, 
if  they  do  squall !  but  I  will  only  run  in  a  very  few  feet." 
But  even  then  he  would  not  have  done  it,  had  not  Mr. 
Fanthorp  repeatedly  exclaimed, — 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Mr.  Parsons  !  "  by  no  means  intending 
what  followed. . 

The  beach  ran  along  the  seaward  side  ;  broad,  smooth,  and 
hard  for  many  a  mile,  ending  with  the  point  of  the  island. 
There  the  sea  gave  place  to  the  sluggish  water  lying  between 
the  island  and  the  mainland,  the  beach  degenerating  into 
deep  sand.  It  was  as  they  flew,  the  wind  whistling  about  their 
ears,  toward  this  critical  point,  that  the  sense  of  the  inventor 
broke  down  (Mr.  Fanthorp  partly  responsible  therefor),  and 
was  ground  to  dust  under  his  swift  wheels.  He  had  threat- 
ened to  give  them  something  to  scream  for,  without  seriously 
intending  it.  But  the  turning-point  had  been  reached.  Mr. 
Fanthorp,  standing  in  the  car,  was,  after  calling  out  to  the 
inventor,  taking  off  Gov.  Magruder  at  the  time  he  made  one 
of  his  well-known  failures  in  stump-speaking.  Col.  Roland 
was  indignantly  denying  that  it  was  in  the  least  like,  laughing 
none  the  less  beyond  his  usual  refined  habit.  Miss  Aurelia 
Jones  was  holding  of  necessity  to  the  commodore,  who  was 
soothing  as  well  as  he  could  her  anxieties,  which  were  more 
for  her  costly  dress  than  for  herself.  Irene  was  crying  to  Mr. 
Venable  not  to  drop  the  sail.  On  the  instant,  without  his 
fully  intending  it,  and  by  the  merest  bend  of  Mr.  Parsons's 
hand  to  the  left,  the  vehicle  drove  under  full  speed  into  the 
water. 

So  sudden  was   it,  and   unexpected,  that  there  was  an 


2/8  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

instant's  silence  of  utter  astonishment.  "Don't  touch  the 
sail ! "  shouted  the  inventor,  above  the  piercing  screams  of 
both  Irene  and  Zeo  as  well  as  Miss  Aurelia.  Mr.  Venable 
let  the  sail  fall. 

"  Sit  still,  no  danger  !  "  yelled  Mr.  Parsons.  "  Concern 
you,  sir  !  Fiddlesticks  !  Still,  sit  still !  " 

But  there  was  a  rush  to  the  landward  side  of  the  vehicle. 
More  slowly  than  could  have  been  believed,  for  it  floated 
high  and  dry  above  the  smooth  water  into  which  it  had  been 
driven,  the  car  turned  over,  and  all  its  living  load  were  strug- 
gling in  the  sea.  It  was  not  fifty  feet  from  shore,  and  the 
depth  of  the  shelving  sand  was  not  enough  to  drown ;  but 
the  confusion  was  what  might  have  been  expected.  With 
wonderful  presence  of  mind,  Col.  Roland,  his  hand  firmly 
pressed  upon  the  note-book  in  his  breast-pocket,  leaped  as 
far  as  possible  from  the  others,  thinking,  in  the  very  act  of 
doing  so,  what  a  thrilling  account  he  would  give  of  it  all  in 
his  paper.  By  reason  of  his  thoughtfulness,  he  was  soon 
ashore,  and  contented  himself  with  advising  his  friends  from 
thence  what  to  do,  if  he  could  but  have  made  himself  heard 
in  the  confusion  of  the  moment.  Grit,  with  the  agility  of 
a  boy  who  had  spent  the  whole  summer  in  the  surf,  off  and 
on,  had  been  the  first  ashore ;  but  he  had  gone  in  again, 
after  a  glance  around,  and  was  now  swimming  about,  looking 
for  Zeo,  and  keeping  himself  carefully  aloof  from  every 
other.  Commodore  Grandheur's  gold-headed  cane  had 
been,  as  usual,  between  his  knees  as  he  sat ;  and,  in  the  act 
of  snatching  after  it,  he  seized  upon  Miss  Aurelia  Jones 
instead,  who  laid  vigorous  hands  upon  him  in  turn.  There 
were  several  moments,  which  seemed  hours,  of  gurgling  cries 
and  intermittent  screams,  splashing  about  in  the  water,  and 
importunate  and  incoherent  appeals  to  God  and  to  man; 
then  a  laborious  crawling  up  the  shelving  shore,  and  a 
grasping  at  each  other  of  those  who  emerged,  weighed  down 
under  the  load  of  their  dripping  attire.  After  that  there  was 


A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  2/9 

an  eager  wiping  of  the  water,  as  well  as  the  streaming  hair, 
from  their  eyes,  and  an  anxious  examination,  on  the  part 
of  each,  as  to  who  the  other  was.  All  the  party  were  there. 

No  !  The  shrieks  of  Irene  rang  upon  the  air.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  Mr.  Fanthorp  and  herself  had  come  out  of  the 
water  where  the  sand  of  the  surf  had  given  place  to  the 
mire  of  the  slimy  bay ;  and,  crawling  up  and  falling  down  in 
it  as  they  emerged,  both  of  them  were  bemuddied  beyond 
recognition.  The  earliest  use  Irene  had  of  her  breath,  after 
wiping  the  mire  off  her  mouth  and  eyes,  was  to  fall  into  con- 
vulsions of  laughter  at  Mr.  Fanthorp ;  to  be  changed  the 
next  moment  into  screams  and  shrieks,  for  her  sister  was  not 
there.  Nor  was  Mr.  Venable.  The  hysterical  girl  seized 
upon  Mr.  Fanthorp,  and  almost  hurled  him  into  the  water, 
exclaiming,  — 

"You  are  a  coward,  sir.  Go  in  and  get  Zeo,  or  —  ah, 
you  know  what  I  will  do  !  "  The  men  needed  no  appeals, 
but  rushed  into  the  sea,  up  to  their  chins,  shouting  and  call- 
ing, Irene  going  up  and  down  the  beach,  as  well  as  her 
heavy  clothes  would  allow,  wringing  her  hands  and  scream- 
ing as  if  bereft  of  her  senses.  Yet  once  again  her  cries 
changed  into  peals  of  laughter ;  and  she  went  up  the  way 
along  which  they  had  come,  and  into  the  surf,  rolling  in 
heavily  before  the  wind.  She  had  seen  Mr.  Venable  strug- 
gling up,  and  continually  falling  down  in  the  waves,  her  sis- 
ter lying  as  if  dead  in  his  arms.  In  her  insane  eagerness  she 
fell  against  the  gentleman,  knocking  him  and  his  burden 
over,  Grit  zealously  aiding  him  up  again. 

"  Go  away,"  Mr.  Venable  shouted  :  "  do  you  wish  to  kill 
her?  Let  me  get  out !  "  The  tones  were  such  as  he  had 
never  before  used  to  anyone,  much  less  to  a  lady;  and, 
Irene  silently  following  as  he  bore  her  sister  high  up  on  the 
beach,  he  laid  her  down  upon  her  face,  and,  directing  what 
the  ladies  were  to  do  to  revive  her,  he  labored  in  silence  but 
with  trembling  hands  with  them,  Grit  beside  her. 


28O  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Parsons?"  Col.  Roland  suddenly  asked, 
in  the  confusion  which  ensued. 

"  Drowned,  I  do  most  sincerely  hope  !  "  Irene  said  as  she 
plucked  at  her  sister's  neck,  unlacing  and  tremblingly  obey- 
ing directions  also.  "  He  richly  deserves  it !  "  she  added. 

"  Ha  !  yonder  he  is,"  said  the  old  naval  officer,  turning 
away  with  the  other  gentlemen  as  the  ladies  partially  dis- 
robed the  prostrate  girl ;  and,  following  the  direction  of  his 
hand,  sure  enough,  there  was  the  inventor  astride  the  top  of 
his  capsized  car,  busily  at  work  doing  something. 

"Ahoy  ! "  shouted  the  commodore  ;  "  can  you  make  it?  " 
his  hands  hollowed  on  either  side  of  his  mouth. 

"  Don't  want  to  make  it !  "  Mr.  Parsons  yelled  in  return. 
"  It  can't  sink.  Part  of  the  invention  !  There  was  no  dan- 
ger. What  did  you  make  such  fools  of  yourselves  for? 
There  was  no  danger.  I  told  you  the  wheels  are  screws  !  " 
in  great  wrath.  "  There  is  an  attachment  to  work  them. 
The  sail  would  have  driven  them.  Con-cern  you  for  drop- 
ping it ! " 

"Can  we  do  any  thing  for  you?"  Col.  Roland  called,  as 
the  inventor  slowly  drifted  before  the  wind. 

"  No  !  "  Mr.  Parsons  roared  in  reply.  "  You  have  done 
mischief  enough.  I'm  better  without  you ; "  and  his  lank 
body  was  clearly  outlined  against  the  sky  beyond  him,  tug- 
ging and  toiling  at  something  as  he  floated  off. 

But  the  attention  of  all  was  fastened  upon  Zeo.  The  com- 
modore had  left  with  the  ladies  a  flask  of  brandy  he  had 
brought,  and,  after  directing  them  for  a  time  impatiently 
from  a  distance,  exclaimed  at  last,  "  What  folly  !  I'm  old 
enough  to  be  her  grandfather,"  and  joined  in  their  labors 
with  such  skill  and  energy  that  in  a  little  while  the  rescued 
girl  was  able  to  sit  up  on  the  sand.  When  this  point  had 
been  reached,  it  was  Mr.  Venable  who  held  her  up  while  the 
rest  consulted  as  to  how  they  were  to  get  home.  With  her 
earliest  breath  she  had  to  refuse  her  brother,  who  begged  to 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  28 1 

be  allowed  to  swim  off  to  Mr.  Parsons  and  share  his  fortunes. 
It  took,  however,  but  a  breath ;  for  the  boy  submitted,  eager 
as  he  had  been,  at  a  word. 

"We  must  be  twenty  miles  away,"  remarked  Mr.  Fan- 
thorp.  As  he  said  it  Irene  broke  into  peal  on  peal  of  laugh- 
ter. Evidently  Mr.  Fanthorp  was  the  object ;  but  it  was 
equally  plain  that  there  was  a  cause  'for  it  beyond  his  exceed- 
ingly bemired  condition. 

"  We  might  as  well  walk,  however  slowly,"  Mr.  Venable 
said,  when  at  last  Zeo  was  able  to  start.  "  I  can  support 
Miss  Zeo  easily.  This  is  only  a  September  gale,  but  she  is 
wet,  and  may  get  chilled.  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I 
engaged  Mr.  Quatty  to  bring  an  ambulance  in  case  of  acci- 
dent ;  Miss  Zeo  —  I  mean  the  ladies  —  being  with  us.  Lis- 
ten ! " 

But  no  one  could  hear  any  thing,  as  they  very  slowly 
walked  along,  Mr.  Venable  supporting  Miss  Zeo  on  his  arm ; 
nothing,  at  least,  beyond  the  roaring  of  the  surf  and  the  gale. 

"  Allow  me  to  relieve  you,"  Col.  Roland  said  after  they 
had  gone  a  few  hundred  yards. 

"  No,  sir,  thank  you  :  I'm  not  at  all  tired,"  Mr.  Venable 
replied,  the  freshest  person  there,  to  judge  by  the  cheerful 
energy  of  his  tones.  But  Zeo  settled  the  matter  as  he  spoke, 
and  kept  bravely  up  with  them,  by  resting  her  other  hand 
upon  the  stout  shoulder  of  her  brother  walking  beside  her ; 
the  whole  adventure  being,  in  his  often-expressed  opinion, 
the  "  bulliest  fun  "  he  had  ever  known.  But  Grit  did  not 
enjoy  it  all  quite  as  much  as  did  Mr.  Venable. 

"  It's  an  ill  wind  which  blows  nobody  any  good,"  Mr. 
Fanthorp  said,  as  they  struggled  on  against  the  weather. 
"  We  are  being  dried  rapidly,  anyhow." 

"  O  Mr.  Fanthorp  !  it's  too  ridiculous,"  Irene  said,  going 
off  again  into  a  burst  of  amusement ;  but  it  was  not  at  what 
he  had  said,  and  ever  and  anon  the  same  thing  would  occur. 
Evidently  there  was  some  hidden  cause  for  her  mirth.  It 


282  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

must  have  been,  at  last,  more  than  an  hour  that  the 
wrecked  party  had  struggled  along ;  Mr.  Fanthorp  seemed 
singularly  daunted ;  and  Col.  Roland  had  repeatedly  ob- 
served that  if  they  caught  him  in  such  another  expedition 
he  "  would  know  it ; "  when,  before  they  were  aware,  Mr. 
Quatty  had  driven  up,  and  had  leaped  from  the  front  seat  of 
his  ambulance  to  the  ground,  four  horses  blowing  beside 
him  with  the  speed  at  which  they  had  been  driven. 

"  But,  halloo  !  where  is  Mr.  Parsons?  "  Mr.  Quatty  asked 
at  last,  amid  the  congratulations  and  exclamations  that  fol- 
lowed. 

"Why,  don't  you  know?"  said  Mr.  Fanthorp,  with  an 
effort,  as  if  in  great  surprise.  "  My  dear  sir  !  It  was  a  con- 
trivance to  go  through  the  air  as  well.  We  got  out.  If  you 
look  you  can  see  him.  Yonder  !  "  and  he  pointed  heaven- 
ward. "  See  ?  Just  yonder,  by  the  edge  of  that  cloud.  Ha  ! 
he  is  taking  a  bite  —  look  —  out  of  a  patent  biscuit.  See?  " 
Mr.  Fanthorp  was  elated,  as  all  were,  by  Mr.  Quatty's  com- 
ing ;  but  that  gentleman,  instead  of  looking  in  the  direction 
of  Mr.  Fanthorp's  lifted  arm,  put  his  head  on  one  side, 
screwed  up  his  right  eye,  and  looked  with  considerable  curi- 
osity on  his  informant  instead. 

"  Very  good,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Capt.  Chaffin's  cruising 
off  there  in  his  yacht  somewhere  :  he  wanted  to  see  the  ma- 
chine when  it  got  to  the  end  of  the  island.  He'll  pick  him 
up  if  he  should  come  down.  Get  in,  folks.  There's  a  big 
basket  of  supper  my  wife  put  up.  She  is  a  sensible  creature. 
So  are  horses,  too.  You  see  it  was  a  smarter  than  Mr. 
Parsons  invented  them.  Now,"  turning  their  heads  city-ward, 
"  just  see  how  these  horses  will  go  when  they  know  they  are 
going  home.  The  ox  knoweth  his  owner,  and  a  horse  his 
master's  crib.  G'lang  ! "  Certainly  the  steeds  in  question,  the 
pride  of  Mr.  Quatty's  establishment,  did  go  along  the  smooth 
hard  beach  in  a  way  that  justified  his  commendation. 
Meanwhile  the  spirits  of  all  within  the  ambulance  had  risen 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  283 

amazingly.  Neither  Zeo  nor  Mr.  Venable,  who  sat  beside 
her,  had  much  to  say,  and  Mr.  Fanthorp  was  not  as  droll  as 
he  often  was ;  but  the  rest  made  up  for  them  as  they  dis- 
cussed Mr.  Parsons,  as  well  as  the  contents  of  the  abundant 
basket.  Miss  Aurelia  Jones's  silks  were  utterly  ruined,  and 
her  curls  disgracefully  disordered,  but  the  youngest  of  cava- 
liers could  not  have  been  more  attentive  to  her  than  was 
the  commodore ;  and  she  seemed  in  brilliant  spirits  all  the 
more,  accepting  like  a  schoolgirl  the  fun,  which,  by  reason  of 
their  new  relations,  was  aimed  at  the  commodore,  also  ter- 
ribly bedraggled,  and  herself.  But  it  was,  and  they  con- 
gratulated themselves  upon  it,  long  after  dark  before  Mr. 
Quatty  put  out  each  of  the  party  at  his  or  her  house. 

Except  Mr.  Fanthorp.  He  alighted  at  Gen.  Buttolph's, 
and,  refusing  to  go  in,  detained  Irene,  laughing  and  strug- 
gling to  get  away  from  him,  on  the  veranda. 

"  You  know  I  did,  sir,"  she  said,  as  her  sister  went  in.  "  I 
can  tell  you  every  word  you  said  !  every  single  syllable,  as 
you  clutched  after  me,  and  bobbed  under  and  came  up.  A 
man,  and  not  able  to  swim  !  What  if  I  was  the  tallest? 
The  water  was  not  much  over  your  head,  if  you  had  only 
struck  bottom  and  stood  up,  as  I  did.  A  woman,  too  !  Oh, 
but  won't  they  laugh  at  you  !  It  will  be  in  every  paper  in 
the  State.  You've  made  fun  of  so  many  people,  you'll  have 
no  peace  again  as  long  as  you  live." 

"  But  listen  to  me  a  moment,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  begged. 
He  was  plainly  in  earnest.  Like  all  practical  jokers,  he  was 
the  most  sensitive  of  men  to  being  himself  made  fun  of.  If 
it  were  reported  that  a  lady  had  saved  his  life,  it  would  be  his 
ruin ;  and  no  one  knew  it  quite  so  well  as  himself.  "  Do  lis- 
ten," he  said.  He  was  caked  from  head  to  foot  with  the 
wind-dried  mire,  but  his  anxiety  was  evident  through  it  all. 

"  No,  sir.  And  I  will  not  keep  it  either.  It  is  the  best 
joke  I  ever  heard  !  O  Miss  Irene,  save  me  !  save  me  ! " 
the  young  lady  exclaimed,  mimicking  his  tones,  though  in  a 


284  A    YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

lower  voice.  "  The  only  thing  for  you  to  do,"  she  added, 
"  is  to  hurry  back  to  the  beach,  and  drown  yourself  in  good 
earnest." 

"  It  is  not  that,"  the  lawyer  said,  driven  to  desperation. 
"  Miss  Irene,  I  admire  and  love  you.  You  have  supposed 
me  to  be  joking.  I  swear  to  you  I  am  in  dead  earnest. 
You  are,  under  your  exterior  of  mud,  the  most  splendid 
woman  I  ever —  Please  listen.  Hold  on  !  Don't  go.  I 
love  you  with  all  my  soul.  Please  be  my  wife.  You  think 
I'm  a  coward,  do  you  !  I'll  show  you ;  "  and  the  shrewd 
practitioner  threw  his  arms  around  the  lady  in  the  darkness, 
and  kissed  her  vigorously.  It  was  a  ressort  dernier,  and 
therefore  desperate. 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  285 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

WITH  THE   YEAR   THE    NEW    WORLD    ALSO    OF    OUR    COLUMBUS 
HASTENS   TO    ITS    ENDING. 

THE  afternoon  following  upon  the  day  of  their  ride, 
Mr.  Venable  called  at  Gen.  Buttolph's.  The  house 
and  grounds  had  undergone  a  complete  renovation.  He 
could  not  but  observe,  during  his  rapid  visit  of  the  day  be- 
fore, the  freshness  of  the  white  paint,  and  the  coolness  of 
the  brilliant  green,  making  the  hospitable  mansion  with  its 
wide  welcome  of  verandas  and  Venetian  blinds  a  picture, 
amid  its  abundant  shrubbery,  in  harmony  with  the  white  and 
green,  too,  of  the  island,  and  the  deep  blue  of  sea  and  sky 
to  the  utmost  horizon.  He  had  not  entered  the  house  on 
his  previous  call ;  and  was  refreshed,  as  he  did  so  now,  with 
the  reproduction  of  the  vivid  colors  of  nature  in  the  fresh 
papering  and  sumptuous  furniture.  Zeo  came  into  the  par- 
lor almost  immediately  on  his  arrival,  and  there  was  a  newness 
of  beauty  in  her  for  which  the  house  and  island  and  ocean 
and  heaven  seemed  an  insufficient  framing.  He  would 
have  scouted  the  idea  of  having  any  illusions  in  regard  to 
her,  such  as  young  Plenty  had  in  reference  to  his  grandfather, 
or  such  as  Capt.  Chaffin  entertained  concerning  his  gifted 
wife ;  yet  he  differed  from  these  merely  in  having  a  more 
insane  idea  still  in  his  valuation  of  this  young  girl.  She  was 
beautiful,  but  his  estimate  was  not  so  much  of  her  loveliness 
as  of  her  intrinsic  and  immeasurable  value  in  a  deeper  sense. 


286  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

It  was  that  which  made  her,  every  thing  about  her,  seem  in 
such  exquisite  taste ;  the  splendor  to  him  of  her  modest 
eyes,  when  they  were  raised  for  a  moment  to  his,  lying  in 
their  being  but  revelations  of  the  world  within.  He  had 
been  uneasy  as  to  her  health  after  their  adventures  of  the 
day  before ;  but  that  was  gone  without  a  question  asked,  in 
view  of  the  color  coming  and  going  in  the  olive  of  her  com- 
plexion. 

"  Have  you  heard?"  The  words,  however,  broke  at  the 
same  instant  from  the  lips  of  both  as  they  met.  Terrible 
words  !  Wherever  any  two  met  in  the  city,  and  soon  it 
would  be  the  same  over  the  whole  State,  a  like  demand  was 
on  every  tongue. 

"  Mrs.  Parsons  is  sick,"  he  said,  declining  a  chair  in  his 
uneasiness.  "  She  says  it  is  nothing  but  a  cold.  Owny  has 
it  too,  for  that  matter.  They  were  waiting  up  last  night  for 
Mr.  Parsons.  It  is  nothing,  nothing  at  all." 

"  Has  she  headache,  and  pain  '  tue  back?"  began  Zeo, 
with  terror  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  believe  so ;  and  nausea  too,  I  think ;  but,"  he  added, 
"  it  is  merely  a  cold.  She  gives  little  Owny  medicine,  but 
will  take  none  herself.  She  refuses  to  lie  down.  When  I 
left  her  she  was  teasing  her  husband  unmercifully.  Capt. 
Chaffin  did  pick  him  up,  sure  enough.  You  never  saw  such 
a  change  in  a  man,  Miss  Zeo.  She  and  Owny  were  laughing 
at  him  about  his  machine.  They  were  in  high  spirits  ;  and 
he  was  standing  there,  when  I  left,  by  the  blackboard,  seeming 
as  if  he  had  been  petrified.  I  was  really  alarmed.  With  his 
hollow  eyes  and  high,  narrow  forehead,  he  looked  like  a 
statue  in  bronze ;  and  he  was  holding  his  child  in  his  arms, 
with  such  tearless  love  for  it  and  his  laughing  wife  as  no 
words  can  express.  It  was  like  a  tableau." 

"  Oh,  poor,  poor  Mr.  Parsons  !  that  is  because  he  knows  so 
well !  "  it  was  all  that  Zeo  said,  melting,  to  the  astonishment 
of  her  companion,  into  tears.  "  And  dear,  dear  little  Owny  ! 
Do  you  not  know?  "  she  asked  as  she  wept. 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  28/ 

"  I  know  that  the  yellow-fever  has  arrived,"  he  began. 

"  Mrs.  Parsons  has  the  worst  form.  It  is  those  of  her 
full  health,"  Zeo  said,  "  who  are  first  struck.  They  are  always 
the  ones  too  who  persist,  as  the  phrase  is,  in  footing  it 
through  the  attack,  refusing  to  take  medicine,  never  lying 
down,  in  overflowing  spirits  to  the  end.  I  thought  of  it 
yesterday  when  we  were  so  wild  with  our  ride.  We  have 
seen  it  all  before.  O  Mr.  Venable  !  "  she  said,  raising  her 
eyes  full  of  tears  to  his,  "  it  is  something  worse  than  you 
can  imagine.  The  yellow-fever  !  " 

But  at  this  moment  Mr.  Fanthorp  entered ;  and,  a  little 
while  after,  Irene,  white  and  nervous.  "  Isn't  it  awful, 
terrible  !  "  she  exclaimed  :  "  we  are  all  going  on  the  next 
bayou-boat.  —  Be  sure  and  be  ready,"  she  added,  turning  to 
Mr.  Fanthorp,  who  was  standing  hat  in  hand ;  but,  while 
she  spoke,  her  fears  gave  place,  as  she  looked  at  him,  to  a 
smile,  and  then  to  laughter,  while  he  let  fall  his  eyes  and 
stood  with  a  deprecatory  manner.  Her  amusement,  seeing 
that,  was  as  soon  gone  as  her  fears.  She  arose  from  her 
seat,  and,  going  over  to  him,  gave  him  her  hand  in  a  way 
which  conveyed  the  impression  of  something  more  than 
mere  frankness.  During  the  rest  of  his  stay  there  was  a 
gentleness  on  her  part,  and  deference  to  Mr.  Fanthorp, 
which  struck  the  trther  gentleman,  even  in  that  anxious  mo- 
m«nt.  He  looked  at  Miss  Zeo ;  but  that  lady  lowered  her 
eyes  with  a  rising  color  in  her  cheeks,  and,  notwithstanding 
her  tears,  a  demure  smile  on  her  lips. 

"  Zeo,"  her  sister  said,  a  little  sharply,  "  I  wish  /  knew 
any  thing  to  laugh  at.  Yellow-fever  !  and  all  our  packing  to 
do  !  Do  you  know  that  two-thirds  and  more  of  St.  Jerome 
will  have  left  in  a  week,  Mr.  Venable  ?  That's  the  advan- 
tage of  you  bachelors.  You  will  snatch  up  a  valise,  and  be 
gone  in  ten  minutes.  Papa  is  at  the  wharf;  but  please  go, 
Mr.  Fanthorp,  and  get  our  tickets.  You  know  there  will  be 
thousands  crowding  the  office,  and  you  have  so  much  more 


288  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

impudence  than  papa  or  anybody  else.  Get  a  ticket  for  Mr. 
Venable  too,"  and  she  followed  the  lawyer  out  into  the 
hall  to  give  some  directions ;  for  he  meekly  obeyed. 

"You  know,"  Irene,  conscious  of  detection,  shot  back 
that  Parthian  arrow  in  going  out,  "  how  agonizingly  his  Ex- 
cellency our  beloved  governor  will  await  us  up  the  country. 
Hurry,  Zeo." 

"  I  must  not  stop  your  packing,  and  I  must  get  back  to 
Mr.  Parsons's  immediately,"  Mr.  Venable  said,  moving  to  the 
door.  "  If  I  should  not  see  you  again  " —  and  he  held  out 
his  hand  to  the  lady  in  parting.  But  she  did  not  arise  from 
her  seat.  She  had  ceased  weeping,  and  sat  as  if  almost  un- 
conscious of  his  presence. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  at  last  and  very  softly,  "  we  are  all  going 
to  Sulphur  St.  Jerome,  the  Springs  you  know,  till  it  is  all 
over.  We  sent  Grit  down  to  the  boat  this  morning.  There 
will  be  happy  days  again." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  the  other  said  as  heartily  as  he 
could.  "  But  not  for  me.  I  mean,  not  for  me  in  St.  Je- 
rome. I  ought  to  tell  you,  Miss  Zeo,"  he  said  with  some 
difficulty,  as  she  lifted  her  eyes  in  astonishment  to  his,  "  I 
have  never  whispered  a  word  about  it  to  any  one,  nor  do 
I  intend  to  do  so  yet,  but  I  intend  leaving  the  island.  The 
church  is  too  old  for  me,  or  I  am  too  young  for  it.  I  want  a 
new  enterprise  in  a  fresh  field.  My  mind  has  been  slowly 
coming  to  that,  and  the  thing  is  settled.  Of  course  I  great- 
ly regret"  — 

"Then  you  leave  immediately?"  There  was  a  sudden 
coldness  in  the  manner  of  the  other  as  she  asked  it,  the 
tears  gone  from  her  eyes. 

"Is  it  possible?  After  knowing  me  for  nearly  a  year? 
Can  you  imagine  such  a  thing  of  me  ?  "  Mr.  Venable  said, 
after  a  silence  ;  and  her  color  came  under  the  mortification 
expressed  in  his  tones.  "  Such  an  idea  never  entered  my 
mind.  I  would  be  the  basest  of  cowards  if  I  did.  Like 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  289 

every  other  minister,  I  suppose,  on  the  island,  I  intend  to 
stay  and  do  what  I  can.  It  is  after  the  fever  is  gone,  and  the 
scattered  church  is  back  again,  that  I  intend  to  leave.  I 
did  not  think  that  was  a  question." 

"  You  are  unacclimated,  Mr.  Venable,"  the  other  said,  in 
stronger  tones.  "  If  the  fever  is  as  it  was  the  last  time,  the 
probabilities  are,"  and  her  eyes  fell,  "that  you  will  die." 

"  If  the  certainties  were  —  I  am  ashamed  to  say  any 
thing,  Miss  Zeo,  which  sounds  so  much  like  boasting,"  her 
companion  checked  himself.  "-When  I  was  invited  here,  I 
took  yellow-fever  into  the  calculation.  And  do  you  know," 
he  added  with  grave  but  brightening  eyes,  "  that  it  is  no 
merit  in  me  at  all  ?  One  takes  a  pleasure  in  it,  like  going  into 
battle  or  into  a  storm.  I  believe,  Miss  Zeo,  you,  too,  enjoyed 
those  days  on  the  Nautilus.  May  Heaven  bless  you  ! "  he 
said,  with  a  sudden  change  in  the  direction  of  his  excite- 
ment. "  Good-by." 

"I  wanted — wanted,"  she  said,  rising  at  last,  standing 
before  him,  and  looking  steadily  in  his  eyes,  with  a  measure 
of  control  over  herself  which  mastered  him  also,  "  to  thank 
you,  sir,  —  to  thank  you  for  my  father  as  well  as  for  life  ! " 
If  the  quivering  of  the  lips  could  have  been  under  perfect 
constraint,  she  would  have  succeeded.  But  it  began  there, 
and  it  was  too  swift,  too  deep  for  her :  it  was  stronger  than 
her  strength.  She  had  begun  with  being  Zenobia,  Queen  of 
Palmyra,  but  she  ended  with  being  merely  Zeo.  Possibly 
she  had  been  too  severely  tried  the  day  before,  and  for  so 
long. 

"  It  is  I  who  have  to  thank  you,"  he  said,  continuing  to 
hold  her  hand,  when,  being  a  clergyman,  he  should  have 
shaken  and  dropped  it,  —  "  to  thank  you,  as  to  yourself  at 
least,  for  giving  me  the  chance.  It  was  hardly  in  drowning 
water,  you  know.  Why,"  he  added,  "it  was,  at  last,  only  a 
few  feet  from  shore.  There  was  no  romance  in  it  at  all. 
Thank  you,  with  all  my  heart.  Good-by ! "  He  shook 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

hands,  and  went  out  like  an  apostle,  —  went  out  to  turn  and 
come  back  again  like  the  weakest  of  men. 

"Miss  Zeo,"  he  said,  "you  know  it  already,  and  what  is 
the  use  of  my  saying  it?  Ever  since  I  came  to  understand 
you,  I  have  loved  you,  and  would  give  my  life  for  you  "  — 

"  Would  you  believe  it !  "  Irene  interrupted  at  this  junc- 
ture, rushing  in,  "a  negro  came  to  Mr.  Fanthorp  on  the 
steps  as  he  was  leaving,  to  say  that  Col.  Roland  is  down,  and 
ever  so  many  more.  Oh,  is  it  not  terrible  !  Yellow-fever  ! 
Just  to  think  !  —  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Venable,  but  we 
must  pack  up.  Good-by  till  we  meet  you  on  the  bayou- 
boat.  —  Come,  Zeo."  There  was  a  new  authority  as  well  as 
gentleness  in  the  volubility  of  the  lively  young  lady.  Their 
visitor  connected  it  in  a  vague  way  with  the  unwonted  aspect 
of  Mr.  Fanthorp ;  but  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  go. 

As  he  walked  rapidly  back  to  Mr.  Parsons's,  he  saw  loaded 
wagons,  crowded  carriages,  people  hurrying  little  children 
along  in  groups,  negroes  with  wheelbarrows  or  bending  un- 
der great  bundles  :  the  whole  town  seemed  out  and  hasten- 
ing toward  the  wharves.  For  days  after  that  the  city  papers 
indignantly  denied  the  fact,  but  all  knew  that  their  old 
and  terrible  foe  was  upon  them.  The  day  was  the  more 
beautiful  in  this,  that  its  cloudless  blue  seemed  somehow,  as 
has  been  said,  to  have  closed  in  upon  the  island  more  nearly ; 
the  sea  also  girding  it  in  with  a  deeper  azure.  It  had 
rained  during  the  night,  and  yesterday's  gale  had  slackened 
into  a  softer  wind,  in  which  every  plant  and  flower  seemed 
fresher  and  more  fragrant.  The  sand  along  the  broad 
streets  was  as  clean,  beneath  the  oleander  and  Pride  of 
India  trees,  as  the  washing  of  last  night's  rain  and  the 
eternal  seas,  as  well  as  the  bleaching  of  the  sun,  could  make 
it.  For  months  before,  all  that  soap  and  scrubbing,  white- 
washing, and  every  disinfectant  could  do,  had  been  done 
in  anticipation.  There  was  not  a  rotting  banana  or  an 
ill  odor  in  the  lowest  alley.  No  vessel,  so  far  as  the  most 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  2QI 

rigid  watch  could  detect,  had  brought  pestilence  as  passenger. 
But  the  disease  had  come  none  the  less ;  the  island  was  like 
a  steamship  which  had  struck  a  hidden  rock  in  the  deepest 
purity  of  the  smoothest  seas,  the  suddenness  thereof  being 
the  worst 'part  of  the  shock.  It  was  not,  the  young  man  no- 
ticed, as  in  the  days  of  the  overflow  when  he  first  arrived. 
That  was  an  open,  honest  affair  of  bellowing  thunder,  raging 
wind,  inrushing  ocean, — elements  which  every  child,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  seamen,  had  known  and  faced  all  its  life. 
But  the  fever  was  a  deadlier  disaster,  a  something  silent,  un- 
seen, impalpable,  infernal :  the  doctors  understood  as  little 
about  it,  the  type  it  would  take,  the  remedy  it  would  obey, 
as  the  youngest.  St.  Jerome  had  looked  upon  the  overflow 
as  a  tremendous  joke ;  an  hilarious  and  generous  good- 
fellowship  accompanied  it.  But  there  was  no  smile  upon 
any  face  now,  and  almost  every  person  was  wolfishly  for 
himself.  The  fugitives  were  liberal  enough  with  their  money 
when  safe  from  harm  up  the  country,  those  who  devoted 
themselves  upon  the  plague-stricken  spot  heroic  enough 
afterward  ;  but  all  that  was  afterward,  indeed,  not  now. 

When  the  minister  went  down  to  the  wharf  to  see  his 
friends  off,  it  was  difficult  at  first  to  detect  them  amid  the 
multitudes  with  which  the  bayou-boat  was  crowded.  Getting 
up  upon  a  timber,  he  saw  them  at  last  grouped  together  upon 
the  guards  of  the  vessel.  The  bell  had  been  ringing  for  some 
time,  but  it  seemed  to  be  impossible  to  draw  in  the  plank 
upon  which  people  were  crowding  on  board  in  the  terror 
of  flight.  Suddenly  a  cry  rang  from  the  centre  of  the  throng 
upon  the  wharf,  and  it  was  scattered  apart  as  by  the  force  of 
an  explosion.  The  pestilence  had  pursued  the  flying  mul- 
titudes to  the  water's  edge,  smiting  down  a  large  and  appar- 
ently vigorous  man  in  the  act  of  pressing  his  way  on  board. 
The  vessel  seemed  itself  to  recoil,  the  crowd  half  on  and 
half  off  the  deck  being  parted  in  the  middle,  as  it  drew 
away  from  the  wharf  with  an  escape  of  steam  from  its 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

pipes  whi  :h  sounded  like  a  scream  of  terror ;  two  or  three 
persons  falling  into  the  sea  to  be  fished  out  again  with  what 
seemed  to  Mr.  Venable  hysterical  peals  of  laughter. 

As  the  boat  backed  farther  away  it  rounded  toward  its 
course ;  and  he  looked  up  and  saw  Gen.  Buttolph  and  Mr. 
Fanthorp  waving  their  hats  to  him  in  adieu,  Irene  calling 
something  which  he  could  not  hear,  as  she  flourished  her 
handkerchief.  The  others  were  to  him  as  nothing,  however, 
his  attention  being  riveted  upon  Zeo,  who  stood  silent  and 
still  beside  her  father.  As  he  lifted  his  hat  she  extended  her 
hand  to  him,  but  it  was  her  face  at  the  instant  which  struck 
itself  like  a  medallion  into  his  memory.  As  he  walked 
slowly  homeward  he  took  that  with  him.  Whatever  was  to 
befall  him,  forevermore  nothing  could  come  between  him 
and  that  beloved  face. 

He  was  bewildered  when  he  sat  at  supper  with  the 
family  that  night.  Surely  Miss  Zeo  was  mistaken.  Mrs. 
Parsons,  pouring  out  the  tea  and  coffee,  had  never  seemed 
quite  so  well,  nor  had  little  Owny  in  her  high-chair  beside 
her  been  more  blooming.  Considering  the  arrival  of  the 
fever  at  the  island,  the  mirth,  however,  of  the  mother  and 
the  child  was  somewhat  out  of  place. 

"But  I  never  could  see  any  use  in  grieving  over  what 
cannot  be  helped,"  Mrs.  Parsons  said.  "  It  is  the  people 
who  fear  the  fever  most,  who  are  sure  to  take  it.  Do  look 
at  Ezra  Micajah  Papa  !  You  ought  not  to  have  run  your 
machine  into  the  water.  It  is  that  which  makes  you  as 
grave  as  an  owl.  I  told  you  so.  I'm  so  glad  Owny  and  I 
are  well  and  strong  ! — We  will  have  you  to  nurse,  Mr.  Vena- 
ble, since  you  are  resolved  to  stay.  It  must  have  been  the 
funniest  thing,  your  upset  in  the  water ;  "  and  she  laughed 
and  rattled  on  even  more  than,  usual.  The  brilliant  eyes  of 
mother  and  child,  the  glory  of  their  seeming  health  in 
cheek  and  spirits,  was  terrible  to  see.  It  was  impossible, 
however,  not  to  laugh,  Mrs.  Parsons  was  so  amusing,  little 
Owny  was  so  smart  as  well  as  sweet. 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  293 

"  Div  dis  hug  and  dis  tiss  to  Miss  Zeo,  Mr.  Venny,  nex' 
time  you  sees  her,"  the  little  darling  said  when  that  gentle- 
man took  her  for  a  moment  from  her  father,  "  'cause  she  dot 
so  wet.  I'm  her  'ittle  girl,  and  your  'ittle  girl,  and  Ezra 
Micajah  Papa's.  I'm  Dod's  own  'ittle  bit  of  Owny,  too  ! 
Take  me  out,  Mr.  Venny :  I  want  to  have  a  womp  with  you 
out-doors.  —  Dood-by,  folkses  !  "  her  chubby  hands  dancing 
in  the  air,  her  fat  and  rosy  face  against  her  favorite's  cheek, 
her  golden  hair  about  her  shoulders,  the  very  double  of  her 
mother,  who  was  laughing  and  throwing  kisses  to  her. 

Tuesday  was  the  day  of  the  ride ;  Wednesday  they  were 
smitten  ;  Friday  they  were  dead, — mother  and  child,  one  in 
this  as  in  all  else.  Why  tell  of  the  increasing  gayety  until  it 
consumed  itself  in  its  own  fires  ?  In  vain  the  fragments  of 
ice  continually  swallowed  as  the  only  medicine  :  they  seemed 
to  be  but  as  so  many  living  coals  of  fire  instead  to  the  raging 
fever.  And  why  detail  the  increasing  agony  in  back  and 
shoulders,  the  nausea,  the  reddening  eyes,  the  orange  lines 
tinging  first  the  eyes  and  then  saturating  and  swallowing  up 
the  whole  body  as  with  a  sunset  of  ghastly  saffron,  the  vomit 
as  of  coffee-grounds  ?  Then  death,  and  a  death  over  which 
there  can  be  not  one  moment  of  idle  lamenting.  Is  not  the 
rapid  decay  of  fruit  always  according  to  the  exuberant  ripe- 
ness just  before?  For  God's  sake,  hasten  to  hide  the  dead 
out  of  sight ! 

That  was  the  beginning.  The  tears  of  even  the  desolated 
inventor  were  dried  up  as  by  the  simoom  of  the  fever  now 
raging  with  ever-increasing  fury  and  breadth  of  sweep.  Very 
soon  three-fourths  of  the  population  had  fled.  Not  a  soul 
was  left  in  the  lately  crowded  city  but  such  as  poverty  or 
duty  held  there.  Mr.  Venable  was  glad  that  there  was  too 
much  to  do  for  him  to  stop  and  think.  In  a  week  his  horror 
was  gone.  There  was  no  time  for  such  weakness.  Until  he 
was  himself  struck  down,  nothing  now  but  a  work  vastly  more 
Christian  than  preaching.  Church  and  sabbath  were  for  the 


294  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

time  abolished ;  and  St.  Jerome  had  to  fall  back  upon  the 
religion  of  which  church  and  sabbath,  scriptures,  sacraments, 
revival,  are  nothing  whatever,  and  worse  than  nothing,  if  they 
are  not  but  merely  its  outer  and  temporary  channels,  —  had 
to  revert  to  the  religion  which  precedes,  as  it  will  eternally 
survive,  these  transient  agencies  thereof.  Visiting  the  sick, 
burying  the  dead,  caring  for  the  destitute  survivors,  —  work 
was  the  duty  until  he  should  himself  die  ;  steady,  unceasing 
work.  In  a  little  while  he  adjusted  himself  to  it  as  if  it  had 
been  his  life  for  years. 

"John  Howard  had  not  an  atom  of  sentiment,"  he  would 
often  say  to  himself  as  he  toiled  with  the  noble  association 
bearing  that  name,  "  any  more  than  I.  That  is  a  luxury  for 
the  people  that  are  up  the  country,  and  it  will  keep  for  us 
till  afterward.  Just  now,  as  Mr.  Parsons  would  say,  senti- 
ment is  fiddlesticks." 


A  YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  295 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

IN  WHICH  THE  MIDNIGHT   DARKENS   TOWARD   DAWN. 

NOW,  why  do  you  suppose  —  why?"  It  was  Mr.  Par- 
sons who  asked  it  of  his  guest.  The  inventor  was 
standing  at  his  blackboard,  chalk  in  hand.  When  Mr. 
Venable  had  first  known  him  he  was  old  and  lean,  rapid  in 
talk  and  walk,  and  very  dry ;  yet,  while  the  sirocco  of  the 
pestilence  had  scorched  him  until  he  seemed  to  be  many 
years  older,  leaner,  dryer,  than  before,  it  had  ripened  him 
into  a  greater  sweetness.  Long  ago  Mr.  Venable  had 
found  out  that  the  visionary  schemes  of  his  host,  manifold, 
and  perpetually  changing,  were  merely  the  froth  made  by 
the  current,  and  by  the  very  rapidity  of  the  current  of  his 
purpose,  a  current  as  deep  and  strong  as  it  was  swift. 

"  Why  ? "  his  friend  answered  him,  "  excuse  me,  why 
what  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  reason  at  the  root  of  every  thing,"  Mr.  Par- 
sons said,  —  "a  reason  which  is  its  root.  If  I  can  find  the 
precise  acid,  I  can  also  find  the  exact  alkali  to  counteract  it. 
The  fever  ravaged  New  York  .in  1822  :  why  has  it  not  been 
there  since?  It  devastates  tropical  America  and  Africa: 
why  not  India  and  China  ?  There  is  a  why  for  its  appear- 
ance in  Vera  Cruz  and  Panama,  and  never  in  Bombay  or 
Calcutta.  Why  do  Spaniards,  Italians,  French  get  well, 
and  Irish,  Germans,  and  Scotch  almost  always  die?  The 
doctors  squabble  as  to  whether  cathartics,  stimulants,  or 


296  A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING. 

ice  applied  within  and  without,  is  best  or  worst.  Frost  kills 
the  fever  instantly.  Now,"  Mr.  Parsons  went  on,  sketch- 
ing his  plan  upon  the  board,  "  why  not  make  a  room,  say, 
like  that,  —  a  room  which  is  also  a  refrigerator  ?  Put  your 
patient  from  the  outset  in  a  New  England,  in  an  arctic 
zone  of  ice.  I  have  got  my  machine-shop  boarded  up,  and 
with  double  walls.  If  I  can  get  ether  enough,  I  will  clap 
you  in  with  the  first  symptom,  and  try  the  freezing  process." 
"Thank  you,"  his  friend  said,  "but  not  yet  I  hope. 
How  many  weeks  is  it,  Mr.  Parsons?  For  the  first  two  or 
three  I  was  in  a  rush  of  excitement.  Then  I  was  so  tired 
out  that  I  worked  and  walked  mechanically,  as  I  have  been 
told  that  soldiers  have  been  known  to  march  sleeping.  I 
have  got  into  the  third  stage.  The  yellow-fever  seems  to  us 
all  as  if  it  were  the  natural  order  of  things,  —  matter  of 
course,  —  as  if  it  always  had  raged  and  always  would.  But 
how  desolate  it  is  !  "  he  added,  rising  and  standing  beside  his 
friend,  who  was  making  calculations  upon  his  board.  "  St. 
Jerome  is  more  terrible  to  me  than  the  cemetery.  I  go 
through  whole  streets  without  seeing  a  soul.  The  houses 
are  all  shut  up,  and  seem  suddenly  dilapidated.  Besides  the 
wagons  carrying  the  dead,  and  the  handful  of  hacks  fol- 
lowing them,  I  have  not  seen  a  vehicle  for  years,  it  seems  to 
me.  I  sometimes  wonder  if  people  are  laughing  anywhere 
in  the  world.  You  never  see  a  child.  The  babies  all  died 
during  the  first  week.  There  must  be  something,  Mr.  Par- 
sons," he  added,  "which  makes  the  grass  grow  that  much 
the  faster  as  the  people  die.  Everywhere  oleanders  are 
forcing  themselves  up  between  the  bricks  and  flag-stones  of 
what  used  to  be  the  busiest  streets.  And  how  sepulchral 
the  sea  looks  !  We  would  not  miss  the  steamers  and  ships 
if  there  were  any  sail-boats.  The  water  laps  sluggishly 
against  the  rotting  wharves,  as  if  it  were  that  of  a  dead  sea 
which  never  had  borne  a  boat,  and  never  would.  There  is 
such  a  dead  halt !  It  is  as  if  the  old  serpent  himself  had 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  2Q7 

coiled  his  slimy  strength  around  the  island,  holding  it  per- 
fectly still,  and  all  the  air  is  his  venomous  breath.  Night 
before  last  I  dreamed  that  you  had  bored  an  artesian  well 
in  your  yard  many  miles  deep,  had  filled  it  with  nitro- 
glycerine, and  were  in  the  act  of  firing  it  off  in  order  to  blow 
the  globe  to  atoms,  when  in  trying  to  stop  you  I  awoke. 
And  so  again  last  night  I  started  from  a  deep  sleep,  Mr.  Par- 
sons, and  it  was  to  me  as  if  the  whole  universe  were  standing 
stock  still.  There  was  not  a  stir,  not  a  sound.  Sea,  sky, 
earth,  air,  myself  —  all  seemed  to  me  to  be  dead.  I  know  I 
ought  not  to  yield  to  it ;  but  for  an  hour  I  lay  motionless  as 
a  stone,  and  St.  Jerome  and  all  we  knew  and  loved  here, 
church  and  friends,  were  to  me  as  much  gone,  and  for  ever 
and  ever,  as  the  cities  and  people  before  the  flood.  Worse ; 
for  a  terrible  time  Christianity  was  dead,  too  !  its  graces 
and  good  works,  its  saints  and  martyrs,  its  very  God.  It 
was  terrible  !  " 

"  It  was  fiddlesticks.  Ether  would  cost,"  his  friend  said, 
summing  up  the  results  on  his  board,  "  two  bits  an  ounce. 
Now  it  would  take,  say,  one  dozen  ounces  to  freeze  you 
down  to,  say,  30°  or  40°  —  I  mean,  to  keep  you  for  a  week 
as  if  under  a  white  frost.  Twelve  twenty-fives  is  three  dol- 
lars. Very  well,  let  us  grant  that  four  thousand  people  are 
left  in  St.  Jerome.  If  we  had  the  refrigerators  ready  I  couUi 
lock  up  every  soul  in  a  temporary  winter  with  twelve  thou^ 
sand  dollars  worth  of  ether.  I  will  go  right  away  and  con- 
sult the  Howard  Association.  Since  the  doctors  fail,  some^ 
body  must  contrive  something.  Come,  let  us  go." 

There  certainly  was  no  inducement  to  stay  behind.  Every 
negro  on  the  place  had  died ;  and,  there  being  rjo  one  to 
work,  the  house  and  workshops,  warehouses  and  grounds, 
had  fallen  into  woeful  neglect.  Here,  as  everywhere,  the 
great  tide  of  human  life  which  had  ceased  from  the  animal 
kingdom  seemed,  as  Mr.  Venable  said,  to  have  found  chan- 
nels for  itself  in  the  vegetable  j  and,  in  the  soft,  moist,  still, 


298  A    YEAR    WORTH  'LIVING. 

and  almost  sultry  weather,  fig-trees  and  bananas,  orange, 
lemon,  and  locust,  as  well  as  the  oleander  and  china  trees, 
were  flourishing  in  licentious  disorder  as  well  as  riotous 
exuberance.  Especially  did  the  ill-smelling  ailanthus  run 
riot,  as  if  it  found  a  fattening  in  the  atmosphere,  foul  with 
disease,  beyond  that  of  the  sandy  soil. 

Mr.  Parsons  would  talk  of  nothing,  as  they  walked  along, 
but  ether  and  the  best  modes  of  evaporating  it ;  and  it  was 
a  relief  to  his  companion  to  excuse  himself  as  having  to 
visit  Father  Fethero. 

"  Bless  me  !  "  Mr.  Parsons  said.  "  I  thought  he  was  dead 
long  ago.  Poor  old  soul !  Tell  him  from  me  that  the  most 
sensible  thing  he  can  do  is  to  go  to  heaven.  Get  your  din- 
ner somewhere,  Mr.  Venable  :  you  know  we  have  nobody 
to  cook  it  but  ourselves.  I  wonder,"  the  inventor  added, 
halted  by  the  sudden  thought,  "  if  the  fever  can  penetrate 
those  boxes.  If  it  can  get  at  my  condensed  vegetables  and 
Focussed  Flesh,  it  will  be  dreadful.  There  are  twenty  thou- 
sand dollars  worth.  I  will  pack  them  in  that  refrigerator  as 
soon  as  I  get  back.  I  will  leave  space  for  you."  And  the 
grim  humor  of  the  old  man  was  not  peculiar  to  himself. 
As  by  a  re-action  from  the  horrors  of  the  time,  every  one 
said  the  most  amusing  things  he  could,  even  in  the  act 
of  handling  the  dying  and  the  dead.  '  But  the  mirth  was 
confined  to  the  saying  of  witty  things  :  people  had  almost 
lost  the  faculty  of  laughing.  "  The  brain  acts,"  Mr.  Ven- 
able said  to  himself  in  parting  from  his  friend,  "  when  the 
muscles  refuse  to  do  so.  I  suppose  this  is  why  whiskey 
affects  these  miserable  topers  as  it  does.  They  do  not 
laugh  nor  fight  now.  Baser  passions,  the  sedimental  mud 
and  vilest  dregs  of  the  soul,  are  stirred  instead.  Surely  it  is 
as  if  the  Devil  were  in  the  whiskey  as  in  the  air.  If  the  steal- 
ing were  all,"  he  added  to  himself;  "but"  —  and  he  shud- 
dered as  he  remembered  the  awful  desecration  of  the  dead 
by  wretches  fired  with  the  madness  of  an  hour  when  the 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  299 

dividing  line  between  the  worlds  was  vanishing,  and  the 
powers  of  the  pit  came  as  well  as  went  freely  over  demol- 
ished barriers. 

"Thank  God!"  he  said  as  he  opened  and  entered 
Father  Fethero's  front  door  without  knocking,  "that  the 
walls  between  earth  and  heaven  also  are  obliterated.  How 
are  you  to-day,  Father  Fethero?" 

It  had  always  been  a  poor  place ;  but  the  poverty  had 
become  squalid  now.  The  widowed  daughter  of  the  old 
man  had  died  at  the  outbreak  of  the  pestilence ;  having,  as 
Mr.  Parsons  had  remarked  at  the  time,  "  the  good  sense  to 
take  all  her  children  with  her."  The  garden  was  a  mass  of 
weeds.  Here,  as  elsewhere  over  the  city,  the  paling  and 
fences  had  been  more  or  less  torn  down  by  those  who 
needed  fuel  and  could  get  it  nowhere  else.  Mr.  Venable 
had  often  seen  wretched  women  doing  it,  as  well  as  pallid 
and  miserable  children,  the  men  of  the  house  being  dead 
or  assisting  in  regard  to  the  sick  and  the  dying.  So  far 
from  blaming  them,  he  had  torn  away  many  a  heavy  arm- 
ful himself,  from  garden  and  front  yard,  and  borne  it  to 
their  houses  for  trembling  women  or  for  puny  girls.  As  to 
carrying  buckets  of  water,  he  was  as  zealous  with  that  as 
with  lifting  the  dead  into  the  hearse  and  lowering  them 
into  the  grave.  But  oh,  the  weariness  of  travelling  over  and 
over  again  that  road  to  the  cemetery  !  He  had  come  to 
know  every  winding  and  turning  of  the  well-worn  road, 
every  tree  and  hillock,  almost  every  weed  and  pebble,  he 
had  gone  over  it  to  and  fro  so  often. 

"  How  are  you,  Father  Fethero?  "  He  had  fallen  into  a 
mechanical  cheerfulness  of  voice  and  manner ;  and  he  knew 
how  the  sick  man  was.  With  small  variation,  it  was  the 
same  set  of  symptoms  over  again  in  every  case. 

"  Such  deadly  nausea,"  the  old  man  replied.  "  Such  a 
burning  in  the  stomach  !  The  pain  in  the  front  of  my  head 
is  terrible,  —  worse  than  in  my  back ;  and  then  the  weight 


3OO  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

on  me  !  How  am  I  ?  I  don't  know.  I  do  not  know.  I 
plainly  perceive  a  —  yes,  a  —  gloom." 

No  wonder  !  His  face  was  flushed  and  swollen,  and  with 
an  aspect  of  distress  seen  in  no  other  disease  unless  it  be 
hydrophobia.  The  eyes  were  red  as  coals  of  fire,  the  breath 
slow  and  irregular,  the  skin  hot,  dry,  harsh.  Mr.  Venable 
felt  the  pulse  :  it  was  at  a  hundred  and  fifty,  the  heart  pump- 
ing as  in  a  sinking  ship.  The  protruded  tongue  was  red  at 
the  edges ;  in  the  eyes  the  first  faint  flush,  amid  the  scarlet, 
of  the  ghastly  yellow. 

"  Mr.  Quatty  was  with  you,  I  suppose,  during  the  night, 
and  Capt.  Chaffin  before  him?  "  the  visitor  asked. 

"Were  they?"  the  sick  man  said,  his  face  like  that  of 
some  coin  from  which  the  lines  by  long  use  are  almost  worn 
out.  "  Somebody  was  here.  Yes :  one  tried  to  cheer  me 
up  by  telling  about  the  grand  pictures  somebody  painted. 
The  other,  —  yes,  it  was  Mr.  Quatty :  he  told  me  all  over 
again  about  his  having  risen  from  being  an  oysterman,  and 
told  me  that  so  I  might  from  my  sickness ;  but  he  prayed 
for  me  afterward.  The  night  was  a  year  long  at  least.  I 
don't  know ;  I  do  not  know." 

"  Are  you  willing  to  go,  dear  sir?  "  his  friend  asked. 

"  I  am  very  willing,"  Father  Fethero  said,  in  broken  sen- 
tences. "  One  would  like  more  ground.  Two  feet  is  not 
enough  for  a  grave.  I  know  they  come  to  water ;  but  I  saw 
the  foot  of  a  man  when  I  was  there  Friday.  No,  it  was  a 
woman.  I  got  a  shovel,  and  covered  it  up.  What  I  can  do, 
I  always  try  to  do.  Stand  in  the  gap,  that's  what  I  try  hard 
to  do  —  in  the  gap  ;  yes,  stand  in  the  gap  "  —  very  wearily. 

"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,"  began  his  friend. 

"  Most  assuredly,"  the  old  man,  seeming  so  very,  very 
old  and  poor  and  utterly  worn  out,  interrupted  the  other, 
his  horny  hand  held  up.  "  Yes,  I  know  that  he  lives  ;  and 
I  know  that  he  has  stood  on  the  earth.  Yes,  and  I  know 
that  in  my  flesh  I  shall  see  God.  Mine  eyes  shall  behold 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  3OI 

him,  and  not  another's.  Yes.  But  I'm  not  going  to  tell 
lies  with  my  last  breath.  I  cannot  say,  I  will  not  assert"  — 
it  was  said  with  the  utmost  energy  of  the  failing  man  — 
"  that  I  ever  have  seen  him  yet.  No,  nor  that  I  understand 
him  now  in  that  matter ;  no,  not  one  bit !  I  will,  you  know, 
but  not  yet ;  no,  sir.  If  you  had  known  how  hard  I  have 
worked  !  I  have  walked  and  ridden,  ah,  yes,  ridden  and 
walked ;  prayed  and  preached,  preached  and  prayed ;  wept 
and  besought,  besought  and  wept.  I  will  be  told  in  heaven, 
you  observe.  But  I  do  not  know  now.  It  wasn't  money  I 
wanted.  When  I  tried  so  hard  it  was  for  souls.  If  the 
Master  —  had  only  —  given  a  poor  —  toiling  —  servant,"  he 
spoke  with  great  difficulty  now,  struggling  to  get  breath,  his 
hand  rising  and  falling  as  when  he  led  in  public  prayer, 
"  could  —  have  given  his  poor  soldier  a  few  souls  —  now  — 
and  then  "  — 

"  Dear  Father  Fethero,  listen ;  "  and,  with  his  hand  on 
the  arm  of  the  other,  his  visitor  slowly  repeated  the  Twenty- 
third  Psalm. 

"  Ah,  yes,  yes  ! "  said  the  sick  man  before  he  was  well 
through,  "  but  never  tell  a  lie,  my  young  brother.  The  green 
pastures  are  no  more  in  the  wilderness  than  the  still  water : 
it  is  on  the  other  side  of  Jordan."  He  spoke  with  revived 
energy.  "  Not  but  that  I've  had  a  little  taste  now  and  then. 
But  it  was  honey  from  the  rock;  honey,  more  like,  out  of 
some  lion  I  had  to  rend  if  I  wasn't  Samson.  I've  had  a 
hard  life  as  a  general  thing,  a  mighty  hard  time.  Crucified 
with  Him  !  Yes,  and  the  crucifixion  isn't  done  until  you  are 
dead.  Very  well.  Now  I  ask,"  and  the  sick  man  argued 
the  point  with  his  forefingers  point  to  point  as  from  the 
pulpit,  "  if  the  crucifixion  of  Christ  was  an  atonement  full 
and  sufficient,  why  must  I  be  crucified  too?  Heh?  All 
three  are  alike  crucified,  the  penitent  thief  and  impenitent 
thief,  every  one  of  us,  as  well  as  Christ ;  crucified  we  are, 
every  man  of  us,  and  to  death.  I  tell  you,"  he  said  in  the 


3O2  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

delirious  energy  of  his  disease,  "  the  Lord  Jesus  is  not  the 
weak  and  womanish  person  people  think  he  is  in  and  out 
of  the  pulpit.  Thou  shall  rule  them  with  a  rod  of  iron  ! 
He  is  a  master.  He  is  a  great  king.  He  is  the  terrible 
Jehovah"  — 

"  Dear  Father  Fethero,"  entreated  his  friend. 

"  For  years  on  years  —  I  have  been  going  over  it  all 
night,"  the  other  went  on,  not  regarding  him,  —  "I  prayed 
and  toiled  and  wept.  It  was  not  money.  With  strong  cry- 
ing and  tears  —  souls,  it  was  souls,  I  wanted.  And  he  was 
as  a  rock  to  my  entreaty.  Say  I  was  not  talented,  say  I  was 
dull  and  tedious,  say  I  had  such  a  shabby  coat  and  face  too. 
I  suppose  so,  but  what  I  wanted,  was  desperate  for,  was 
souls,  —  the  conversion  of  perishing  souls.  Jane  —  not  the 
Jane  that  died  when  the  fever  came  —  Jane's  mother.  My 
wife.  People  said  she  was  my  better  sense.  Well,  why  was 
she  taken,  then  ?  It  was  hard  enough  on  me  before.  I  tell 
you,"  the  old  man  said,  lifting  himself  up  with  terrible  eyes, 
"  he  has  been  a  hard,  hard,  hard  Master  to  me  !  " 

"  We  thank  thee,  O  God,"  the  other  said,  in  tones  low 
and  steady  and  strong,  his  eyes  closed  to  shut  out  the  sight 
as  he  knelt,  "  we  do  heartily  thank  thee  that  Jesus  died  for 
us.  But  we  bless  thee  that  we  also  die  ;  that  we  are  cruci- 
fied with  Christ,  crucified  in  the  body  'of  sin.  We  bless 
thee  that,  even  as  Jesus  was,  so  are  we  arrested,  scourged, 
mocked,  spitted  on,  held  fast  on  our  cross ;  and  we  do  praise 
thee  that  thus  not  we,  but  our  sins,  are  killed.  We  bless 
thee  that  scourge  and  nails  are  ours  also  "  — 

"And,"  interrupted  the  other,  his  clasped  hands  feebly 
rising  and  falling  in  the  accents  of  supplication,  "we  do 
magnify  thee  that  thou  dost  no  more  hear  our  cries  in  our 
Gethsemane  than  thou  didst  the  agony  of  thine  only  Son. 
Sin  has  got  to  go  !  We  do  indeed  drink  of  thy  cup.  Not 
my  will,  but  thine,  be  done.  Amen." 

His   pulse   had   become  more  frequent,  yet  feeble;   the 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  303 

deadly  sunset  was  spreading  its  yellow  hues  over  face  and 
neck  and  hands.  There  was  the  calmness,  at  last,  of  peace 
upon  the  toil-worn  countenance.  He  held  the  hand  of  his 
friend  in  his  as  he  said  it,  his  whole  aspect  so  serene  that 
his  companion  smiled  at  the  contradiction  in  his  words. 

"  I  can't  lie,  my  young  brother.  It  would  be  playing  the 
part  of  Ananias  to  pretend  to  any  raptures.  That  was  never 
my  gift  from  God.  My  life  has  been  a  hard,  a  very  hard 
life,  that's  the  fact ;  but  not  as  much  so  as  His.  Something 
awful  in  sin,  my  brethren,  since  God  had  to  endure.  God, 
you  see,  as  well  as  you  and  I !  We  will  have  it  explained 
hereafter.  I  am  not  happy.  I  never  was.  I  plainly  per- 
ceive a  gloom.  But  I  do  see  light  beyond  it.  He  loves 
me,  but  he  is  keeping  it  for  me  —  there.  I  couldn't  under- 
stand. Not  to  save  my  life  I  couldn't.  I  can't  now.  But 
I  always  loved  him.  I  haven't  done  any  thing  for  him, 
but  I  tried  to  as  hard  as  I  knew  how.  It's  all  right ;  I  mean, 
it  will  be  all  right." 

Then  came  the  change  which,  by  this  time,  the  one  watch- 
ing at  his  side  knew  so  well.  It  was  with  difficulty,  that, 
supporting  the  head  of  the  dying  man  with  one  arm,  Mr. 
Venable  endeavored  to  wipe  away  from  the  struggling  lips 
the  dark  froth  which  was  the  corruption  of  death  already 
doing  its  work  within.  Father  Fethero  put  him  aside  with 
violence,  his  eyes  looking  straight  before  him. 

"Get  out  of  my  way,  will  you?"  he  said,  with  irritation. 
"Go  to  one  side,  children.  Mary,  Henry,  Jane  —  all  of 
you  !  Why,  wife  Jane  !  Don't  you  see  how  you  stop  me, 
Jane  ?  Out  of  the  way,  out  of  the  way,  all  of  you  ! "  He 
said  it  with  a  gesture  of  both  extended  arms,  like  that  of 
a  man  in  swimming.  "  Not  now.  Wait !  Wait !  In  one 
moment !  "  as  if  he  were  pressing  his  way  through  a  throng- 
ing crowd.  "  Get  out  of  the  way,  all  of  you  !  I  want  to  get 
to  Him.  I  want  to  ask  Him  "  — 

As  the  young  man  withdrew  his  arm,  and  let  the  head  of 


304  A   YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

the  departed  saint  rest  upon  his  pillow,  though  the  words 
were  through  his  own  lips,  they  came  as  from  another, 
speaking  by  him :  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the 
Lord,  that  they  may  rest  from  their  labors ;  and  their  works 
do  follow  them." 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  305 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

SULPHUR   ST.   JEROME,   AND   WHAT   HAPPENED   THERE. 

WHEN  Gen.  Buttolph  fled  from  the  island,  he  had 
taken  his  family  some  hundreds  of  miles  into  the 
upland  interior  of  the  State,  to  a  spot  famous  for  its  medici- 
nal springs.  Quite  a  village  had  sprung  up  there  of  log 
cabins,  clapboard  shanties,  and  tents  inhabited  mainly  by 
refugees  from  the  fever ;  and  in  one  of  the  more  substantial 
of  these  temporary  homes  the  general  was  living  with  his 
household.  For  more  than  fifty  miles  southward,  and 
stretching  indefinitely  northward,  the  rolling  prairies  were 
almost  unsettled  as  yet,  deer,  antelope,  wolves,  and  bears 
being  the  only  inhabitants  except  when  the  region  was  raided 
upon  by  savages  from  the  wilder  wilderness  farther  north 
ajid  west. 

Some  weeks  after  flying  from  the  pestilence,  Mr.  Fanthorp 
was  out  upon  a  hunting  expedition  a  score  of  miles  from 
Sulphur  St.  Jerome,  as  the  encampment  of  the  refugees  was 
called,  accompanied  by  Gov.  Magruder.  They  had  slept 
one  night  under  the  open  sky,  a  blanket  beneath  them, 
their  heads  upon  their  saddles,  the  eyes  of  each  being  pro- 
tected from  the  brilliant  light  of  the  moon  by  his  broad- 
brimmed  felt  hat  placed  over  his  face. 

"Look  at  that  tarantula,  governor,"  Mr.  Fanthorp  ex- 
claimed as  he  arose  in  the  morning,  and  shook  an  enormous 
spider  off  his  blanket.  "  It  must  have  been  next  my  jugular 


3O6  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

vein  all  night.  If  it  had  bitten  me  "  —  and  he  indulged  in  a 
good  deal  of  fun,  while  he  rolled  up  and  strapped  together 
his  blankets,  as  to  his  weeping  creditors  and  their  vain 
search  after  his  assets,  since  a  bite  would  have  been  death. 

"  Hang  it,  Farce,  don't  make  such  a  to-do  !  A  quart  of 
whiskey  would  have  cured"  —  the  other  began,  and  then 
arose  slowly  and  cautiously  from  the  camp-fire  over  which  he 
had  been  boiling  coffee  in  a  tin  cup.  "  Yes  ;  but  we've  drunk 
up  the  whiskey.  What  is  it?"  his  companion  asked,  for  his 
friend,  with  his  head  upon  one  side,  his  right  hand  held  up 
in  a  warning  manner,  was  apparently  listening  as  if  to  some- 
thing in  the  distance. 

"Indians?"  Mr.  Fanthorp  again  asked,  grasping  his  rifle 
which  lay  at  his  feet. 

As  he  spoke  the  other  made  a  clutch  at  his  trousers  just 
above  the  knee,  and,  holding  the  handful  of  cloth  as  far  off 
as  he  could  from  his  flesh,  he  cried, — 

"  Quick,  Fanthorp  !  cut  it  out.     Centipede  !  " 

The  knife  was  mislaid,  of  course :  it  always  is  in  cases  of 
emergency,  as  Mr.  Fanthorp,  rushing  about  here  and  there 
among  their  "traps,"  explained  with  many  an  oath,  urging 
his  friend  meanwhile  to  "  hold  on  ! "  As  soon  as  it  was 
found,  Mr.  Fanthorp,  having  sharpened  its  twelve  inches  of 
steel  upon  his  boot,  proceeded  with  rapid  but  artistic  care  to 
cut  away  from  the  leg  of  the  other  the  handful  of  clothing. 
As  he  did  so  the  governor  threw  it  upon  the  ground.  Sure 
enough  it  was  a  centipede,  with  its  coats  of  mediaeval  armor, 
and  its  multitudinous  legs.  The  lawyer  lifted  the  tin  cup 
from  the  coals,  inserted  his  knife  under  the  reptile  as  it  lay, 
and  dropped  it,  coiling  itself  upon  the  blade  and  biting  at  it, 
into  the  centre  of  the  fire. 

"A  tarantula,"  he  added  as  he  replaced  the  cup  over  its 
expiring  agonies,  "  is  bad  enough.  But  a  centipede  !  —  You 
can  take  my  hat,  Magruder.  I  see  you,  but  can  go  no  better. 
My  vermin  is  to  yours  what  a  cat  is  to  a  tiger :  a  tarantula, 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  307 

when  no  whiskey  is  to  be  had,  is  death ;  but  a  centipede  is 
death  and  perdition  ! " 

His  companion  drank  his  coffee,  and  ate  his  pork  and  corn- 
pone,  in  comparative  silence.  Nor  did  he  return  to  the  sub- 
ject until  they  neared  Sulphur  St.  Jerome  toward  night,  each 
with  a  deer  strapped  across  his  horse  behind  him. 

"  Fan  thorp,"  he  said  at  last,  "  do  you  know  I  wouldn't 
have  cared  a  cent  if  that  thing  had  stuck  every  leg  it  had 
into  me? " 

"  What  are  you  up  to,  governor  ?  I  have  been  wonder- 
ing," his  friend  replied,  "  that  you  have  not  laughed  at  my 
jokes.  You  haven't  heard  a  word  I  said.  What  is  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"  Farce  Fan  thorp,"  he  replied  after  some  silence,  "  I  don't 
believe  you  ever  had  a  serious  thought  in  your  life ;  and 
you'd  be  the  last  man  living  I  would  talk  to  if  you  were  not 
going  to  marry  her  sister.  Ride  slower :  my  trousers  are  cut 
up  too  bad  for  us  to  get  in  before  dark." 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  the  other  asked  when  nothing  had 
been  said  for  some  time. 

"You  know  what  a  man  I  have  been,  Fanthorp,"  the 
governor  began  reluctantly. 

"Well,  what  then?"  the  other  asked. 

"This,  sir,"  he  continued:  "knowing  what  I've  been, 
knowing  that  everybody  who  sees  us  together,  she  and  I, 
knows  what  I've  been,  I  swear  to  you  I  can't  talk  to  her, 
to  save  my  life.  Don't  I  know  how  pure  and  beautiful  and 
good  she  is  ?  Every  time  I  dare  to  try  and  talk  to  her,  I 
could  spit  in  my  own  face.  I  am  a  scoundrel,  but  I  can't 
play  the  hypocrite,  Fanthorp  ; "  and  the  other  drew  his  horse 
to  a  halt  as  he  said  it :  "I  can't  and  I  won't 7  " 

"Won't  what?"  his  friend  asked  anxiously,  for  he  had 
much  at  stake. 

"  I  wish  the  centipede  had  killed  me  as  dead  as  a  ham- 
mer. Look  here,  Fanthorp,"  the  executive  of  the  past  and 


3O8  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

the  senator  of  the  future  added,  "  every  time  I  see  her  I 
feel  as  if  I  could  crawl.  I  am  trying  to  steal  her,  because 
she  is  so  ignorant  of  me.  It  is  as  if  I  were  sneaking  into  a 
man's  tent,  and  trying  to  steal  his  money  while  he  is  asleep ; 
the  meanest  scoundrel  and  liar  that  ever  lived  !  I  am  a 
gentleman,  sir,"  shouted  the  man,  "  if  I  am  a  scamp ;  and  I 
won't,  and  I'll  be  cursed  if  I  do  ! " 

Now,  as  a  lawyer,  Mr.  Fanthorp  would  have  argued  the 
point  for  argument  sake.  Moreover,  he  had  indulged  in  no 
scruples  in  his  own  case.  Above  all,  it  was  essential  to  his 
interests  that  the  governor  should  become  his  brother-in-law. 
Hating  Col.  Roland  as  he  did,  he  intended,  in  virtue  of 
such  an  alliance,  to  oust  the  colonel  from  his  guardianship 
of  the  governor.  Surer  revenge  than  that  he  could  not 
desire. 

"  Only  let  me  see  this  popular  fool  safely  married  to  Zeo," 
he  said  to  himself  as  often  before  while  the  other  was  talking, 
"  and  myself  to  her  sister,  my  fortune  is  made.  With  him 
in  the  senate,  there  is  hardly  any  thing  in  the  State,  or  per- 
haps in  the  federal  gift,  but  I  can  get ;  there's  the  St.  Jerome 
custom-house,  the  post-office  at  least.  Roland  never  had 
any  trouble  making  him  do  any  thing  he  wanted  !  " 

"  Let's  ride  on,  Magruder,"  he  said  to  him  soothingly,  and 
added,  "  the  fact  is,  confess,  man,  you  care  nothing  for  Miss 
Buttolph ;  why  not  say  so  at  once,  and  be  done  with  it?  " 

"  You  are  a  liar,  sir  !  "  His  companion  said  it  in  the  low- 
est of  tones,  shifting  the  reins  of  his  horse  as  he  did  so  to 
his  left  hand,  his  right  going  instinctively  to  the  revolver  in 
his  belt ;  for  such  language  was  not  often  used  with  impu- 
nity in  that  region.  Grasping  that  to  be  prepared  for  what- 
ever might  result,  he  deliberately  repeated,  — 

"  You  are  a  liar,  sir,  and  you  know  it !  "  and  then  added 
in  a  way  which  left  no  doubt  of  his  sincerity,  — 

"  Not  love  her !  Look  here,  you !  I  love  her  as  no 
woman  ever  was  loved  before  !  You  know  how  I've  been 


A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING.  309 

raised  on  my  plantation ;  and  I  never  knew,  how  could  I 
know?  what  love  was  until  I  met  her.  Here  I've  been  these 
months,  and  the  more  I  see  of  her  the  worse  it  is.  The 
longer  I  know  her,  the  harder  it  comes  to  talk  to  her.  Not 
love  her ! " 

"  And  yet  you  don't  want  to  marry  her,"  the  other  said, 
swarthier  than  ever  with  his  anger,  but  controlling  himself 
for  a  purpose. 

"  Marry  her ! "  the  governor  replied  with  suppressed 
fury,  "  marry  her  !  as  if  she  would  marry  such  a  fellow  as  I 
am  !  Can't  you  understand,  it's  because  I  love  her  that 
I  do  not  dare  to  ask  her  to  have  me  ! " 

There  was  a  vehement  sincerity  in  the  man,  which  stag- 
gered the  lawyer.  But  Mr.  Fanthorp  was  a  lawyer  whose 
client  had  every  thing  at  stake  ;  and  that  client  was  himself. 
As  they  rode  slowly  along,  once  more  he  beat  his  brains  as 
to  what  to  say,  and  added  at  last,  — 

"  Look  here,  Magruder,  do  you  know  that  Mr.  Venable  is 
dead  in  love  with  her?  You  are  going  to  let  him  cut  you 
out,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Venable  !  "  The  governor  repeated  the  name  in  a  stu- 
pid way.  Like  an  Andalusian  bull,  which  comes  suddenly 
upon  a  man  standing  before  it  in  the  ring  apparently  un- 
armed, his  surprise  allowed  no  room  for  animosity.  "  Ven- 
able? He's  a  splendid  fellow;  but  I'm  not  afraid,"  he  said 
simply,  while  the  other  remarked  to  himself,  "They  call 
Charlie  Chaffingsby  an  idiot.  Great  heavens  !  he  is  a  Solo- 
mon compared  to  this  one. 

"  Gov.  Magruder,"  he  continued  aloud  and  with  all  grav- 
ity, "  I  am  glad  I  have  to  do  with  a  man  of  your  intelli- 
gence"— 

"  Hang  intelligence  !  No,  Farce  Fanthorp,  no,"  the  states- 
man replied,  confronting  him  with  the  same  honesty  of 
aspect.  "  That  is  in  Roland's  line.  It  won't  work." 

"  Hear  me  out,  sir ; "  the  attorney  emphasized  the  request 


3IO  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

with  an  oath.  "  What  I  was  going  to  say  is,  that  I  appeal 
to  you  as  to  a  man  of  honor.  Here  you  have  been  waiting 
upon  Miss  Buttolph  for  months,  in  the  presence,  sir,  of  all 
St.  Jerome.  With  the  eyes  of  the  whole  State  upon  you, 
sir,  you  have  led  the  lady,  above  all,  to  believe  that  you 
intended  to  ask  her  to  be  your  wife ;  and  am  I  to  under- 
stand that  you  contemplate  so  dishonorable  a  thing"  —  and 
the  astonishment  of  the  lawyer  was  exceeded  only  by  his 
disgust  — "  as  to  fly  the  track  ?  It  is  impossible  !  You  do 
such  a  thing?  " 

His  companion  looked  at  him  blankly  at  first,  then  stroked 
his  beard  with  a  thoughtful  countenance  ;  then,  as  the  light 
came  into  his  eyes,  he  held  out  his  hand  to  the  other  in  a 
burst  of  pleasure,  and  cried,  "  I  had  not  thought  of  that !  I 
always  told  Roland  I  was  too  great  a  scamp ;  but  he  led 
me  on,  and  now  I  am  in  honor  bound  as  you  say.  That's  a 
fact:  she  ought  not  to  accept  such  a  fellow;  but  I  can 
try,  you  know  ;  she  may  :  who  can  tell?  "  The  face  of  the 
man  was  as  full  of  delight  as  that  of  a  boy ;  and,  it  being 
now  quite  dark,  the  two  rode  into  camp  in  excellent  humor, 
the  governor  often  repeating,  "  I'm  bound  to  do  it,  that's  a 
fact." 

The  next  morning,  as  Zeo  Buttolph  sat  with  her  sister 
under  the  live-oak  which  overhung  their  cabin,  Irene  said 
to  her,  — 

"Wasn't  the  letter  pa  handed  you  just  now  from  St. 
Jerome,  Zeo  ?  " 

"Yes;"  and,  as  her  sister  said  it,  her  eyes  were  full  in 
those  of  Irene,  who  seemed  unusually  petulant. 

"  It  was  very  imprudent.  Don't  you  know  the  infection 
may  be  carried  in  paper?  Suppose  you  should  catch  the 
disease?  Do  you  think  I  would  stay  and  nurse  you?  I 
would  not  do  it !  I  would  run  away  !  O  Zeo,  Zeo  ! "  she 
added  with  indignation.  And  she  may  have  been  right; 
for,  judging  by  the  color  in  her  sister's  face,  there  had  been 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  311 

fever  in  the  letter,  which  she  had  read  over  more  than 
once. 

"  Tell  me  one  thing,  Zeo,  for  there's  no  good  in  arguing 
with  you:  are  you,"  Irene  demanded,  "going  to  answer 
it?" 

"  No ;  "  and  it  was  said  with  such  smiling  composure,  that 
her  sister  smote  her  hands  together,  and  then  kissed  her 
with  sudden  affection  ;  adding,  as  she  lifted  her  head,  "  you 
are  right,  Zeo  !  and  yonder  is  the  governor  getting  off  his 
horse  to  come  here.  I  do  hope  he  will  be  brave  enough 
this  time.  Good-by,  you  darling !  Help  him  as  much  as 
you  can." 

As  she  disappeared  in  the  cabin,  the  gentleman  approached. 
He  was  dressed  with  care.  His  superfine  broadcloth  fitted 
him  admirably,  his  linen  was  of  the  whitest  and  finest ;  his 
barber  had  done  the  little  nature  had  left  undone  in  his 
black  hair  and  silken  beard.  But  he  seemed  painfully  awk- 
ward as  he  drew  near :  his  cordial  eyes  were  troubled,  his 
manner  was  that  of  a  big  schoolboy  on  his  way  to  receive 
a  well-deserved  chastisement. 

"  Good-morning,  Miss  Zeo,"  he  said  as  he  stood  before 
her,  hat  in  hand.  "  I  hope  you  liked  the  venison  I  sent. 
Excuse  me,  I  cannot,"  he  continued  rapidly  and  as  if  afraid 
to  stop,  as  she  arose  and  offered  him  the  camp-stool  vacated 
by  Irene.  "I  am  leaving  for  good  this  morning,  and  I 
merely  called  to  say  good-by.  And  I  wished  to  say,  Miss 
Zeo,  what  I've  been  trying  to  say  for  months,  that —  that "  — 
The  young  girl  looked  up  at  her  tall  and  pleasant-faced 
lover  with  interest.  The  man  was  desperate ;  the  perspira- 
tion stood  upon  his  forehead,  his  face  was  white  and  set. 
If  he  had  been  going  into  battle  he  could  not  have  been  so 
nervous  or  determined  as  he  added,  "  that  —  that  I  —  love 
you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  madam  —  I  mean  miss; 
and  I  beg  you  to  be  my  wife.  I  do  love  you,"  he  said  with 
a  thrill  of  honest  energy,  "  but,  no,  no,  please  don't,  don't 
say  one  word  !  not  yet "  — 


312  A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

"Gov.  Magruder,"  the  young  lady  replied,  with  great 
dignity  as  well  as  modesty,  "  I  thank  you.  If  you  will  allow 
me  "  — 

But  the  other,  although  with  all  deference,  would  not 
suffer  her  to  continue. 

"  No,  no,  Miss  Buttolph.  Pardon  my  rudeness,"  he  said, 
"but  I  cannot  bear  to  have  you  say  any  thing  now.  Please 
think  it  over.  I  will  see  you  in  St.  Jerome.  I  assure  you 
of  my  deepest  respect  as  well  as  affection ;  but  I  cannot 
take  your  answer  now,  —  really  cannot !  I  will  write.  Par- 
don me,  but  let  me  hope,"  he  added,  with  the  anxiety  of  a 
boy  and  the  embarrassment  of  a  girl :  "  you  will  understand 
it  —  your  excellent  sense —  Good-afternoon  ;  "  and  with  a 
hurried  bow  he  hastened  away.  In  a  moment  after  he  had 
mounted  his  horse  in  charge  of  a  negro  at  a  little  distance ; 
and  the  sound  of  his  departing  hoofs  was  drowned  in  the 
laughter  of  Irene,  who  had  heard  it  all,  as  she  ran  out  of  the 
cabin  to  kiss  and  tease  her  sister. 

"  Good-afternoon  !  when  it  isn't  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  wish  Mr.  Fan  thorp  had  been  here  to  have  seen  it," 
she  said.  "  Accept  my  congratulations,  Mrs.  Gov.  Magruder. 
When  do  you  leave  for  Washington  ?  And  as  sure  as  you 
live,  Zeo,  he  is  so  popular  that  Mr,  Fanthorp  and  Col. 
Roland  between  them  will  make  him  President  yet :  see  if 
they  don't ! "  And  Irene  threw  her  arms  about  her  sister, 
crying  as  well  as  laughing  in  her  excitement. 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  313 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

MR.   VENABLE  IS  RE-ENFORCED. 

OCTOBER  and  November  were  gone  at  last.  They  de- 
parted laden  with  hundreds  of  souls ;  for  never  had 
the  yellow-fever  raged  as  terribly  before  in  St.  Jerome.  But 
the  death-rate  had  fallen  to  a  dozen  a  day,  then  to  six  or 
eight,  lately  to  two  or  three.  It  was  not  that  the  malaria 
was  exhausted,  but  that  its  material  had  been  used  up ;  the 
fever  was  slackening  its  fires  for  lack  of  fuel.  The  labors  of 
the  young  pastor  and  his  associates,  for  he  was  but  one  of  a 
band  of  heroes,  slowly  diminished.  With  more  sleep  and  in- 
creasing appetite,  his  spirits  revived,  —  began,  in  fact,  as  the 
days  of  rest  came  on,  to  be  as  fresh  as  ever.  He  thanked 
God  for  the  tide  of  life  beginning  again  to  rise  within  him, 
conscious  that  he  was  as  much  the  creature  of  its  ebb  and 
flow  as  any  bubble  lifted  and  lowered  again  upon  the  sea 
round  about  him. 

He  was  not  surprised  when  he  was  summoned  one  day 
to  Capt.  Chaffin's  house  ;  but  he  blamed  himself  for  not  feel- 
ing more  sadness  when  he  stood  there  beside  the  dead. 
It  was  Clara,  and  she  lay  in  her  own  room  as  if  sleeping 
sweetly.  The  little  Israelitish  maid  was  portrayed  upon 
the  wall  over  her  head ;  a  very  little  maid  indeed  in  com- 
parison with  the  mighty  Naaman  whose  leprous  condition 
was  frightful  to  see,  and  whom  she  was  in  the  act  of  urging, 
with  violence,  to  seek  the  prophet.  The  visitor  could  smile 


314  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

as  he  saw  it ;  for  there  was  nothing  to  distress  him  in  the 
little  damsel  of  the  better  Artist  lying  beneath.  It  was 
one  of  the  few  instances  in  which  the  disease  had  not 
stained  the  dead  with  its  horrible  yellow,  and  no  dream  of 
genius  carved  in  purest  marble  could  have  been  so  beautiful. 
He  had  no  feeling  of  regret,  the  reverse  instead,  as  he  tried 
to  photograph  upon  his  mind  with  steady  and  almost  criti- 
cal gaze  the  arch  of  the  brows,  the  delicacy  of  forehead 
and  nostril,  the  curve  of  cheek  and  chin,  the  Cupid's  own 
bow  of  the  mouth,  the  sculptured  perfection  of  the  hands 
clasped  on  the  bosom.  He  had  but  the  moment,  as  of 
photographing,  in  which  to  do  it ;  for  the  body,  more  per- 
ishable than  the  white  roses  lying  upon  its  bosom,  must  be 
hastened  out  of  sight.  "  We  can  safely  leave  her  to  the  lov- 
ing Hand  which  made  her,"  he  said.  "  He  who  formed  her 
from  the  dust  to  be  so  lovely,  will  raise  her  again  in  the 
perfection  of  an  intellect  in  keeping  with  a  form  so  fair." 
Beside  himself  no  one  was  present  but  the  father,  his  face 
sad  but  not  bitter,  his  aspect  breathing  of  patient  sub- 
mission only.  Mr.  Quatty  had  his  hearse  at  the  door ;  but 
there  was  no  one  to  tend  his  horses,  standing  with  drooping 
heads,  worn  out  with  funerals,  and  he  waited  outside  until 
the  brief  services  were  over.  Then  Mr.  Venable  took  his 
place  while  Mr.  Quatty  and  the  father  brought  down  the 
coffin,  and  placed  it  in  the  hearse.  Mr.  Quatty  was  the  most 
sympathetic  of  men ;  but  he  had  little  to  say  to  Capt.  Chaf- 
fin,  who  rode  beside  him  as  they  drove  down  the  only  street 
in  which  the  grass  was  kept  under,  that  which  led  to  the 
cemetery ;  emotion  was  exhausted  for  the  present.  The  idiot 
brother  laughed  loud  and  long,  when,  idling  at  the  gate  in 
vigorous  health,  rosy  and  fat,  he  saw  the  coffin  placed  in 
the  hearse  ;  but  no  one  thought  even  of  wondering  why  the 
one  was  taken  and  the  other  left :  they  were  too  tired  ;  and 
that  question  also  would  keep  until  afterward.  There  is  no 
one  else  to  watch  with  Mrs.  Chaffingsby,  and  Mr.  Venable 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  315 

goes  back  and  to.  her  room  until  her  husband  returns.  He  is 
hardly  aware  of  the  Judith  pictured  upon  the  wall,  holding 
the  head  of  Holofernes  over  that  of  the  artist  lying  beneath. 
He  is  barely  conscious  that  it  is  a  portentous  Judith,  which 
dwarfs  the  meagre  creator  thereof  into  a  mere  mite,  for  he 
had  no  idea  before  how  very  small  and  frail  she  was.  The 
fever  is  raging  at  its  hottest  in  her.  Her  eyes  are  as  coals 
of  fire ;  her  tongue  is  tremulous  with  the  fierceness  of  the 
heat ;  her  wasted  arms,  the  white  sleeves  falling  away  like 
films  of  ashes  from  them,  rise  and  flicker,  and  fall  and  rise 
again,  as  if  they  were  the  very  flames  which  consumed  her. 
She  will  not  pause  for  Scripture  or  prayer,  much  less  for  con- 
versation, but  talks  incessantly. 

"You  put  me  out  dreadfully  that  day,"  she  said  before  he 
had  taken  his  seat.  "  I  had  my  plan  all  ready.  It  was  to 
cover  the  walls  of  our  church  as  they  do  in  Italy  with  the 
saints.  I  wanted  to  tell  you.  You  didn't  know  about 
Clara.  All  the  world  knew.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  my  plan, 
but  you  struck  me  with  that,  and  drove  it  out  of  me.  But  it 
came  again  afterward.  It  was  so  cruel,  when  I  was  trying 
to  get  used  to  Clara  !  You  didn't  tell  him,  captain  ?  No,  I 
ought  not  to  have  told  you  my  plan.  You  could  not  un- 
derstand. We  could  "  — 

At  this  moment  the  door  behind  Mr.  Venable  opened 
softly.  "  Come  in,  my  dear,"  the  dying  woman  exclaimed, 
with  uninterrupted  tongue :  "  you  will  make  a  better  Ma- 
donna than  a  Rachel ;  you  are  dark  and  deep  like  her. 
You  know  something  great,  and  you  keep  silence  " — 

He  had  watched  over  too  many  a  raving  sufferer  of  late 
to  be  easily  moved ;  yet,  as  Mrs.  Chafifingsby  talked  on,  he 
turned,  and,  to  his  horror  more  even  than  surprise,  he  saw 
it  was  Zeo  Buttolph. 

"Miss  Zeo!"  he  exclaimed,  started  to  his  feet.  "Are 
you  mad?  Pardon  me,  but  go  quick  !  "  As  he  said  it,  he 
tried  to  shut  the  door  upon  her,  pushing  her  out ;  but  she 
was  as  determined  as  he,  and  pressed  her  way  in. 


3l6  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

"  I  am  acclimated,"  she  said  :  "  I  got  back  yesterday ;  and 
Mr.  Parsons  passed  our  house  just  now  to  say  that  there  was 
no  woman  to  be  had  here.  I  will  stay,"  she  added,  laying 
aside  her  bonnet  and  shawl.  "  My  dear  madam,  please  "  — 
and  she  held  up  a  quieting  hand. 

"  I  am  not  a  dear  madam,"  the  poor,  weazen-faced  little 
artist  said  with  dignity.  "  I  will  be  one  of  the  old  masters ; 
old  mistresses,  I  mean ;  but  that  is  too  absurd.  You  two 
go  together  in  a  picture,  whatever  it  is.  But  I  had  a  grander 
idea  then  about  you.  It  was  such  a  glorious  idea ;  and, 
like  all  glorious  things,  so  exceedingly  simple,"  she  added, 
sobering  down  for  a  moment  as  into  the  artlessness  of  a 
child.  "  You  see,  I  took  the  measures  with  my  eye  at 
prayer-meeting  and  church.  You  soothe  me,  my  child,  and 
nothing  could  be  simpler,"  with  a  girl-like  laugh.  "  I  will 
begin  at  the  vestibule  down  in  the  basement,  where  we  have 
prayer-meetings.  As  a  beginning,  I  will  paint  chaos  on  the 
wall,  outside  the  inner  door,  you  know.  You  have  no  idea," 
—  another  laugh  —  "what  a  splendid  chaos  I  could  paint." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Chaffingsby,"  Mr.  Venable  began. 

"  It  is  useless,"  said  his  companion  :  "  better  not  repress 
her  "  — 

"  Repress  ! "  the  sick  woman  interrupted  with  shrill  sar- 
casm. "You  have  no  right  to  prevent  me,  captain.  It  is 
not  my  soul,  as  you  try  to  make  yourself  think :  it  is  Charles 
and  Clara.  It  kills  me.  I  must  get  away  from  them,  or  go 
mad.  You  make  believe  you  are  such  a  block  you  don't 
know.  Oh,  yes  !  then  Adam,  as  you  go  in  the  door  of 
the  basement  on  one  hand ;  Eve,  you  know,  on  the  other. 
There  is  plenty  of  room  upon  the  walls  all  around  for  the 
Old  Testament  people,  up  to  Malachi.  I  will  paint  him 
on  the  ceiling  of  the  basement,  pointing  upward  to  the  New 
Testament  in  the  church  above.  A  picture,  he  said,  must 
be  a  pyramid.  I  can  get  in  a  good  deal  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment in  the  church.  The  Revelation  on  the  ceiling,  of 


A    YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  317 

course,  and  everybody  in  it  pointing,  with  a  sweet  smile, 
upward  —  to  heaven,  you  know.  That  will  be  the  apex. 
Oh,  it  will  be  perfectly  glorious  !  I  tell  you,  captain,  I  will 
go  at  it  right  away.  The  negroes  are  all  dead,  but  you  can 
watch  Clara  and  Charles  until  I  am  done.  Let  me  alone  ! " 

The  poor  woman  struggled  to  rise.  It  was  more  than 
Mr.  Venable  could  do  to  hold  her  down  in  bed :  Zeo  had  to 
come  to  his  assistance. 

"You  shall  not  prevent  me,"  she  exclaimed,  struggling 
with  an  almost  superhuman  strength.  "  I  have  at  last  a  con- 
ception of  Christ !  I  never  dared  to  put  his  face  on  canvas 
before  !  I  can  do  it  now  !  He  is  here  !  He  sits  to  me 
himself !  "  But,  as  she  strove  to  break  from  the  restraining 
hands,  the  re-action  came.  With  the  inky  foam  to  her  writh- 
ing lips,  she  sank  back  upon  her  bed,  sobbing  like  an  ex- 
hausted babe.  Then  with  eyes  as  peaceful  as  those  of  an 
infant,  she  clasps  her  feeble  hands,  and  joins  in  with  low 
and  half-uttered  words  as  her  pastor  whispered  the  consola- 
tions of  the  gospel,  and  uttered  a  brief  prayer,  Zeo  kneeling 
by  him.  When  her  husband  returns,  it  is  to  prepare  the  dead 
for  burial,  Zeo  helping  him.  He  does  it  with  face  so  set 
that  he  is  not  himself  conscious  of  the  tears  which  trickle 
and  fall.  That  brown  and  rudely-carved  face  has  endured 
many  a  sea,  but  his  tears  are  drops  of  the  saltest  brine  it  has 
ever  known  ;  a  something  in  the  affection  of  this  man  for  his 
little  wife,  which  gave  to  all  who  saw  it  a  new  conception  of 
love. 

It  takes  few  words  to  tell  Mr.  Venable,  when  they  walk 
away  together,  how  Zeo  Buttolph  happens  to  have  returned. 
She  and  her  father  were  acclimated.  The  fever,  too,  was 
regarded  as  over.  Her  father  had  resolved  to  return.  She 
could  not  keep  him  away  any  longer.  "  I  could  not  let  him 
be  here  alone,"  she  added,  and  her  companion  understood 
it  all. 

It  was  almost  startling  to  himself,  the  way  in  which  his 


3l8  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

spirits  rose  again  as  they  walked  along  in  the  open  air,  laugh- 
ing and  talking  as  they  went.  He  felt  almost  extravagantly 
elated.  "  We  are  through  our  severe  trial  at  last,"  he  ex- 
plained to  her. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  looking  so  well,"  she  said.  "We 
have  heard  of  your  heroism,  of  your  devotion.  You  cannot 
tell,  sir"  —  she  began,  but  completed  the  sentence  by  lifting 
her  eyes,  and  looking  for  a  moment  steadily  in  his. 

"  I  was  but  one  of  many  others,"  he  said,  the  re-action 
going  on  so  rapidly  that  his  heart  bounded  within  him.  "  It 
has  seemed  ages  since  we  parted,"  he  continued,  "  but  we 
are  nearly  through ;  "  and  his  face  brightened,  his  eyes 
sparkled.  "  There  is  but  one  thing  now  " — 

"  But  I  haven't  told  you  about  our  friends,"  she  inter- 
rupted, with  rising  color,  as  she  proceeded  to  do  so  with 
a  degree  of  eagerness  unusual  to  her.  Commodore 
Grandheur  and  Miss  Aurelia  Jones  had  spent  the  season 
together  up  the  country,  and  were  really  and  truly  to  be 
married.  The  same  was  true  of  her  sister  and  Mr.  Fan- 
thorp.  Both  couples  were  waiting  their  return  to  the  island, 
to  have  Mr.  Venable  perform  the  ceremony.  "You  have 
no  idea,"  she  added,  "  how  Irene  tyrannizes  over  Mr.  Fan- 
thorp,  nor  how  submissive  Miss  Aurelia  .is  to  the  commo- 
dore. It  is  amusing." 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  conversation  as  they  walked  the 
grass-grown  streets,  and  passed  the  deserted  houses ;  but 
there  was  an  emptiness  in  all  they  said,  that  which  inter- 
ested them  most  being  held  in  reserve.  He  told  her  of  his 
plans.  He  was  firmly  fixed  in  the  purpose  he  had  formed 
before  she  left.  The  capital  of  the  State  was  a  noble  field 
of  labor.  As  soon  as  the  church  people  returned,  he  would 
resign,  go  up  to  that  important  centre,  and  organize  a  church. 
He  would  build  it  up  from  the  foundation.  He  was  full  of 
his  scheme. 

"  It  has  been  a  terrible  time,"  he  said  at  last ;  "  but  do 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  319 

you  know,  in  a  certain  sense  and  all  along,  I  never  was  hap- 
pier?" He  laughed  and  talked  on,  and  was  so  much  in 
earnest,  he  did  not  see  a  sudden  change  in  her  face.  From 
the  first  she  had  been  looking  at  him  with  covert  but  linger- 
ing eyes  ;  but  now  as  they  drew  near  her  home  she  glanced 
at  him  once  and  again,  and  then  turned  deadly  pale.  After 
they  parted  at  her  father's  gate,  she  stood  for  a  time  holding 
firmly  by  it,  her  face  drawn  and  almost  desperate.  When 
she  entered  the  house  it  was  to  go  direct  to  her  room,  and 
lock  the  door  behind  her. 

Mr.  Venable  was  smitten  with  the  fever :  his  wild  spirits 
had  left  no  doubt  in  her  of  that ;  and  he  reached  Mr.  Par- 
sons's  house  only  to  fall.  His  duty  had  raised  him  out  of 
all  thought  or  care  for  himself,  had  kept  him  going  as  by 
its  increasing  lift  and  pressure.  In  relaxing  it  had  left  him 
prostrate.  The  storm  had  passed  ;  but  he  lay  helpless  as  in 
the  trough  of  a  sea  which  still  rolls  after  the  tempest  is  gone. 
Capt.  Chafifm  and  Mr.  Quatty  aided  Mr.  Parsons  in  nursing 
him ;  and  they  could  have  nothing  but  fear  for  the  result. 

Besides  him,  Gen.  Buttolph  had  to  be  nursed.  His 
placid  obstinacy  had  always  been  the  curse  of  his  charac- 
ter. An  unusually  plump  infant  from  his  birth,  the  general 
had,  alas- 1  never  ceased  in  many  senses  to  be  but  an  infant ; 
and  in  returning  too  soon  to  the  city,  he  had,  as  in  every 
thing  else,  yielded  at  last  as  to  his  own  avoirdupois. 

The  talk  with  Mr.  Venable  upon  the  beach  that  night  had 
been  the  slow  result  on  the  inert  man  of  the  long-con- 
tinued influence  upon  him  of  Zeo.  Even  then  his  promise 
ended  with  the  year.  It  was  because  she  had  been  with  him 
at  Sulphur  St.  Jerome,  that  he  had  remained,  so  to  speak, 
indolently  firm.  As  the  close  of  the  year  drew  nigh,  the 
habits  of  a  lifetime  asserted  themselves  with  increasing  ap- 
petite. He  grew  restless ;  and,  one  morning,  leaving  his 
daughters  and  Grit  to  follow  in  the  care  of  Mr.  Fanthorp, 
he  had  suddenly  left  for  St.  Jerome,  in  order  to  be  at  least 


32O  A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING. 

upon  the  spot  where  he  could  indulge  when  his  time  of  ab- 
stinence was  out.  Zeo,  however,  had  seized  the  opportunity 
of  acquaintances  returning ;  and  leaving  her  sister  weeping 
and  remonstrating,  to  follow  at  her  leisure,  she  had  hastened 
homeward  but  a  few  hours  after  her  father.  He  had  not 
broken  his  promise ;  but  his  portly  habit  and  his  years  of 
indulgence  had  made  him  as  resinous  to  the  fever  as  pine 
is  to  fire.  Almost  immediately  upon  her  return  with  Mr. 
Venable  to  the  house  from  Mrs.  Chaffingsby's  bedside,  she 
was  summoned  to  the  dining-room  to  find  him  lying  upon 
the  sofa.  Although  he  had  not  drank  a  drop,  he  had,  the 
key  being  in  her  possession,  broken  open  the  sideboard,  and 
placed  the  decanter  upon  its  marble  top,  where  he  could  at 
least  see  it,  and  was  lying  unconscious,  struck  down  by  the 
pestilence.  They  did  not  remove  him ;  and  the  sofa  was 
but  as  a  funeral  pyre.  In  a  few  hours  the  greedy  flames  had 
consumed  him ;  and  no  one  contradicted  Mr.  Parsons,  who 
had  hurried  there  for  a  moment  from  beside  Mr.  Venable, 
when,  as  emphatic  as  ever,  but  in  a  low  tone  that  Zeo  might 
not  hear,  he  said,  — 

"  He  has  been  a  slave  so  long :  it  is  best  as  it  is,  best  at 
least  for  her." 

When  the  first  blow  of  her  father's  illness  smote  Zeo,  she 
felt  sure  of  one  thing.  During  the  weeks  of  darkness  and 
prostration  which  followed,  she  felt  it  only  the  more  cer- 
tainly ;  it  wrought  itself  into  the  rhythm  of  her  beating  heart, 
it  spanned  like  a  rainbow  her  fast-falling  tears,  —  the  com- 
mendation of  the  Master  in  regard  to  a  woman  and  never 
yet  of  a  man,  "  She  hath  done  what  she  could." 


A   YEAR   WORTH   LIVING.  32! 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

IN    WHICH    IS     ENDED    WHAT    IT    IS    HOPED    THE    READER    MAY 
CONSENT'  TO   SAY   HAS   BEEN  A  YEAR  WORTH   LIVING. 

WE  weary  in  these  pages  of  the  pestilence,  as  men 
wearied  of  it  then. 

December  was  at  last  rolling  away,  and  the  scattered  pop- 
ulation of  St.  Jerome  began  to  return.  The  freshness  of  the 
crape  upon  the  hats  of  the  men,  and  the  mourning  apparel 
of  the  women,  as  the  city  slowly  filled  up,  told  always  and 
everywhere  of  the  dead ;  the  absence  of  it  was  itself  the 
mark  in  any  one  of  the  alien  and  the  stranger.  Old  neigh- 
bors stopped  each  other  along  the  streets,  and  shook  hands 
sorrowfully  together  at  front  gates,  comparing  experiences. 
Yet  it  seemed  with  no  one  as  when  death  has  stricken  its 
victim  singly.  There  was  the  sublimity  of  a  great  catastro- 
phe in  the  loss  of  each  :  affliction  weighed  less  upon  the 
survivors,  because  its  general  load  was  borne  upon  the 
shoulders  of  so  many,  individual  grief  being  soothed  in  the 
air  of  universal  sympathy.  There  was  no  outcry  of  anguish, 
no  violent  weeping,  seeing  that  the  whole  atmosphere  was  a 
mist  of  tears  ;  and  that  also  would  lift  and  pass  away  in  due 
time,  personal  grief  hiding  itself  more  every  day  in  silent 
homes,  then  drawing  itself  deeper  still  into  hearts  of  bereave- 
ment. As  the  days  fled,  the  world  came  rolling  back. 
There  were  vessels  at  the  wharves,  vehicles  along  the  streets, 
new  faces  in  shop  and  store,  in  the  market  and  counting- 


322  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

room  and  warehouse.  Everybody  was  coming  back,  and 
going  to  work  again  with  double  energy  to  make  up  for  lost 
time.  Very  soon  the  schools  and  churches  would  fill  up ; 
the  cotton-compresses  and  brokers'  offices,  the  theatres  and 
billiard-saloons,  the  auction-rooms,  drinking-establishments, 
cigar-shops,  gambling-hells,  and  places  worse  still,  would  be 
in  even  fuller  operation  than  before  the  pestilence.  Boys 
quarrelled  and  turned  somersaults  along  the  sidewalks ;  ne- 
groes shouted  to  each  other,  and  argued  with  obstinate 
mules,  upon  the  wharves,  as  if  refreshed  after  rest.  The  tide 
of  life  was  coming  in  more  bountiful  and  brilliant,  and  salt 
with  all  variety,  than  ever  before ;  and  speedily  the  last 
traces  of  its  awful  ebb,  the  long  wrinkles  it  had  left,  the 
ridges  in  the  sand  which  were  the  graves  of  the  dead,  would 
be  covered  up  as  by  the  ocean.  In  a  little  while,  "the 
fever "  would  be  talked  about  as  a  something  which  befell 
long  ago.  The  houses  and  palings  would  be  repainted,  the 
grounds  restored,  the  exuberant  overgrowth  of  vegetation 
pruned  down,  and  everybody  come  to  wear  as  cheerful  a 
face  as  possible.  Before  long,  no  man  would  be  so  disloyal 
as  to  hint  or  even  believe  that  the  fever  had  been  so  disas- 
trous as  had  been  represented ;  and  many  would  be  ready 
to  swear  that  it  never  could  or  would  come  again,  world  with- 
out end,  for  ever  and  evermore,  amen. 

No  two  men  could  be  more  unlike,  in  a  bodily  sense 
especially,  than  Gen.  Buttolph  and  Mr.  Venable.  For  that 
reason,  the  fever  which  flashed  up  again  its  dying  fires  in 
consuming  the  one  had  spared  the  other. 

Sunday,  the  last  day  of  the  year,  had  arrived.  Mr.  Vena, 
ble  was  still  pale  and  weak ;  but  every  hour  since  the  white 
frost  had  silvered  the  graves  of  the  crowded  cemetery,  he 
had  grown  stronger.  He  was  able  to  sit  up  at  last  in  Mr, 
Parsons's  parlor,  and  had  been  telling  his  host  of  his  inten- 
tion of  resigning  his  charge,  and  of  organizing  a  church  else- 
where, as  soon  as  he  could  get  away. 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  323 

"  I  want  a  new  field,"  he  said,  "  because  I  intend  to  be  a 
new  man.  To  do  the  work  of  the  grander  days  before  us, 
a  man  must  be  —  the  strain  is  so  much  greater  —  a  stronger 
man  than  ever.  As  soon  as  possible  I  will  be  off.  I  must 
go,  as  you  once  told  me,  like  a  shot." 

"Fiddlesticks  !  "  Mr.  Parsons  replied.  "We  will  let  you 
do  no  such  thing.  I  am  alone  in  the  world  now,  and  you  do 
nothing  without  my  permission  !  Do  you  suppose  we  would 
have  had  the  fever,  had  people  settled  Hacamac  instead  of 
this  wretched  end  of  the  island?  Never.  I  never  mistake." 

"  The  terraqueous  machine  ?  "  suggested  the  other  with  a 
smile. 

"  It  was  a  success,  sir  !  If  you  foolish  people  could  have 
had  the  sense  to  sit  still,"  the  inventor  said  almost  angrily, 
"  it  would  not  have  upset.  If  you  hadn't  dropped  the  sail, 
we  would  have  gone  out  upon  the  water  beautifully,  sir,  beau- 
tifully !  But,  as  I  told  you  before,  I  have  hit  upon  the 
thing  at  last,  at  last ; "  and  he  rubbed  his  hands  together  with 
quiet  assurance.  Well  he  might.  The  idea  had  come  to 
him,  as  has  been  recorded,  in  the  act  of  pouring  out  milk  for 
Owny ;  and,  applying  the  principle  of  condensation,  he  had 
since  then  perfected  his  invention.  In  a  word,  he  had,  in 
good  earnest,  made  his  great  discovery,  which  was  to  net  him 
his  hundred  thousand  a  year,  as  the  reader  would  agree  if 
that  invention  might  be  named  here.  "  No,  sir,"  Mr.  Par- 
sons added :  "  I  am  very  rich  henceforth,  am  that  much 
more  positive ;  and  you  shall  do  nothing  except  as  I  say. 
Yonder  comes  Miss  Zeo  again,  and  it  is  the  most  sensible 
thing  she  could  do.  Don't  talk  too  much  :  I  must  go." 

It  was  by  no  means  the  first  call  she  had  made  since  Mr. 
Venable  began  to  get  well.  To  judge  by  the  manner  of  their 
meeting  now,  what  had  passed  between  them  before  must 
have  been  satisfactory  to  both. 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  it,"  he  said  at  last,  as  she  stood 
beside  him  in  her  mourning,  grave  and  strong.  "  The  gov- 


324  A    YEAR    WORTH    LIVING. 

ernor  is  so  handsome  and  rich,  so  popular,  has  such  a  future 
before  him,  is  so  —  so  magnetic." 

For  of  course  he  knew  how,  in  addition  to  writing  again 
and  again,  as  he  had  told  her  he  should,  the  governor  had 
sent  Col.  Roland,  who  had  just  recovered  up  the  country 
from  the  fever,  as  an  ambassador;  how  her  sister's  wrath 
and  tears  had  each  in  turn  been  poured  upon  her,  while  Mr. 
Fanthorp's  ridicule  and  mimicry  of  himself  had  exhausted 
their  utmost  powers  toward  the  same  end. 

"  I  like  him,"  Zeo  replied,  "  sincerely,  and  told  him  so 
yesterday  when  he  came.  He  is  generous  and  warm-heart- 
ed, but,  apart  from  Col.  Roland,  nothing  more.  The  strain 
upon  me  before  was  too  great.  No  :  it  is  I  who  am  too 
weak.  Unless  I  had  loved  him,  I  dared  not  risk  it !  " 

For  a  moment  she  was  silent,  for  the  governor's  visit  had 
been  one  of  the  most  painful  experiences  of  her  life ;  and 
her  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  remembered  how  in  his 
eagerness  all  embarrassment  had  been  forgotten  as  he  plead 
his  own  cause  with  the  eloquence  of  intense  feeling,  in  the 
knowledge  that  it  was  the  last  effort  he  could  make  to  win 
her.  Then  she  added  thoughtfully,  as  she  seated  herself 
beside  her  lover,  and  yielded  her  hand  to  his,  "  I  can  dare 
every  thing  where  I  love ;  and  of  you,"  she  laughed  with 
brightening  color,  "  I  have  hopes ;  "  but  she  would  not  have 
indulged  him  with  such  a  loving  look  in  return  for  his,  had 
he  not  been  still  weak  from  his  sickness. 

"  You  are  an  angel !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"No  :  I  am  only  a  woman,  not  even  a  heroine,"  she  said. 
"Irene  has  all  the  romance;  and  I  am  afraid,"  she  said 
modestly  and  in  a  lower  voice,  "  that  all  I  know  is  to  try 
and  trust." 

"Thank  God,  Zeo!"  he  said,  his  face  full  of  gladness, 
"  thank  God  most  of  all  for  such  weakness :  it  is  thus  you 
are  most  truly  a  woman.  You  are  not  Mrs.  Chaffingsby's 
Martha  or  Judith ;  but  you  are  all  I  can  wish.  I  could  not 


A   YEAR   WORTH    LIVING.  325 

have  imagined  an  improvement  in  you  the  first  day  I  saw 
you;  but,"  he  added  with  enthusiasm,  "you  have  no  idea 
how  you  are  changed,  you  darling." 

"  Do  you  remember,"  Zeo  said  softly,  "  that  magnificent 
day  after  the  storm,  —  the  first  day  of  the  year,  I  mean,  on 
board  the  Nautilus,  the  day  we  landed?  " 

"  It  was  the  brightest  day  of  my  life,"  her  lover  said ;  "but 
to-day,  and  after  the  tempest  of  the  fever,  is  far  brighter, 
and  the  pain  of  the  year  has  been  better  to  us  than  the 
pleasure.  Mr.  Parsons  could  state  it  all  upon  his  black- 
board, and  give  you  the  exact  result  of  loss  and  gain.  I 
cannot ;  but  I  know  that  to  me  it  has  been  a  wonderful 
year  —  a  year  brimming  full  and  running  over.  This  new 
year,  Zeo,  will  be  better  still,  because  I  will  have  you." 
Her  eyes  were  drooped ;  but  she  lifted  them  wholly  at  one 
with  him  as  he  said,  and  drew  her  to  his  heart  as  he  did  so, 
'  But  the  old  year  has  been  to  both  of  us,  has  it  not,  Zeo,  a 
year  worth  living?  " 


Franklin  Prets :   Rand,  Avery,  &•  Co.,  Boston. 


THE 


Latest  Sensation  in  the  Literary  World 

SEOLA. 

A  ROMANCE  BY  AN  ANONYMOUS  AUTHOR. 
i6mo.     Cloth.     $1.50. 


The  "Boston  Transcript"  says:  — 

"Will  attract  a  multitude  of  readers,  and  shows  great  power  of 
imagination." 

The  "Boston  Traveller"  devotes  a  column  to  a  notice  of  it, 
and  says :  — 

" '  SEOLA'  must  make  a  mark  in  the  literary  world.  It  stands  out 
simple  and  single  in  its  character;  and  it  must  be  a  very  dull,  apathetic, 
and  unimpassioned  reader,  who  is  unable  to  find  within  its  pages  that 
which  will  surprise,  affect  deeply,  and  gratify." 

The  "  Boston  yournal "  says :  — 

"There  are  none  of  the  staple  incidents  and  catastrophes  of  the  tra- 
ditional novel,  nothing  of  social  intrigue,  drawing-room  chatter,  or 
conventional  love-making ;  but,  redolent  with  the  atmosphere  of  the 
Orient,  it  has  all  the  fascination  of  a  fantastic  and  beautiful  dream." 

The  " Danbury  News"  says:  — 

"  The  strangeness  and  the  magnitude  of  the  machinery  of  the  tale 
are  very  impressive,  and  enchain  the  attention  till  the  end  of  the  story 
is  reached." 

The  "New-York  Herald"  says:  — 

"Made  so  interesting  that  one  reads  the  book  through  without 
pause." 

The  "Home  Journal"  says:  — 

"  It  will  be  perused  by  cultivated  readers  with  lively  interest.  The 
work  is  written,  it  is  evident,  by  an  accomplished  scholar;  and  the 
style  is  one  of  perfect  purity  and  refinement.  The  character  of 
1  SEOLA  '  is  drawn  with  exquisite  beauty." 


SOLD   BY   ALL   BOOKSELLERS  AND   NEWS-DEALERS. 

LEE  &   SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS, 

IBOSTOICT. 


2,joo  MILES  IN  A  PAPER  BOAT. 


Voyage  of  the  Paper  Canoe; 

A  Geographical  Journey  of  2,300  Miles,  from  Quebec 
to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 

BY  NATHANIEL  H.  BISHOP, 

Author  of  "A  Thousand  Miles'  Walk  across  South  A  merica."   Embellished  with 
spirited  illustrations,  and  ten  maps  of  the  route. 

8vo.    CLOTH,  $2.50. 


"  A  fascinating  narrative  of  a  very  venturesome  journey.  In  following 
his  adventures  during  this  unique  and  daring  voyage,  we  have  found 
the  province  of  the  reviewer  quite  lost  in  the  pleasure  of  perusal.  Geo- 
graphical observations  and  bits  of  science  and  history  add  to  the  value 
of  the  volume;  and  incidents,  amusing  or  thrilling,  colloquies  with 
'  crackers '  and  negroes,  and  glimpses  of  Southern  life  and  character 
among  the  high  and  the  low,  enhance  the  interest  of  the  narrative,  and 
lend  it  life  and  piquancy.  The  story  of  fictitious  travels  and  adventures 
could  hardly  be  more  exciting,  or  hold  the  reader's  attention  more 
closely,  while  the  knowledge  that  the  whole  narrative  is  the  transcript 
of  actual  experience  deepens  the  interest.  The  author's  style  is  modest, 
direct,  and  fluent.  There  is  no  attempt  at  fine  writing,  but  the  story  is 
exceedingly  well  told.  There  are  a  dozen  or  more  wood-engravings, 
illustrating  the  most  noteworthy  incidents  of  the  trip.  There  are,  in 
addition,  ten  maps,  showing  the  minutest  details  of  the  journey,  from 
beginning  to  end.  These  have  been  made  for  the  author  by  the  United- 
States  Coast-Survey  Bureau,  and  are  probably  the  most  complete  and 
accurate  maps  of  the  Atlantic  coast  anywhere  obtainable.  They  are 
engraved  with  exquisite  delicacy."  —  Boston  Journal. 


"  The  perils  encountered  by  the  author  are  related  with  a  charming 
modesty,  but  are  of  thrilling  interest.  The  '  Voyage  of  the  Paper 
Canoe  '  is  suited  to  all  classes  of  readers.  The  scientific  man  will  find 
many  interesting  facts ;  the  geographical,  the  only  complete  account  of 
the  interior  coast-water  route  ever  published ;  the  naturalist,  various 
items  of  interest ;  the  student  of  character,  new  and  peculiar  types ;  the 
canoeist,  a  true  and  faithful  guide  from  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico."  —  Sunday  Herald. 


Sold  by  all  Booksellers  and  Newsdealers,  and  sent  by  mail,  post- 
paid, on  receipt  of  price. 

LEE  &   SHEPARD,   Publishers,   Boston. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "IN  TRUST." 


FROM  HAND  TO  MOUTH, 

BY 

MISS  A.  M.  DOUGLAS, 

AUTHOR  OF 

IN  TRUST,         STEPHEN  DANE,          NELLY  KINNARD'S  KINGDOM, 

CLAUDIA,  SYDNIE  ADRIANCE,          HOME  NOOK, 

KATHIE  STORIES,  ETC. 

13mo.      Cloth..      $1.5O. 


a  This  volume,  like  all  the  works  of  this  author,  is  well  written  and 
intensely  interesting,  though  there  is  nothing  sensational  or  strained  in 
the  plot,  scenes,  or  characters.  It  is  a  story  of  homely,  every-day  life, 
just  such  as  any  of  us  may  have  seen ;  and  herein  lies  without  doubt 
no  little  of  the  charm  with  which  the  gifted  author  has  invested  her 
story.  It  is  a  book  that  will  be  popular,  and  will  survive  the  passing 
hour.  —  Bridgeport  Farmer. 

"  Another  of  Miss  DOUGLAS'S  pure  and  sensible  stories,  fully  equal 
to  '  Nelly  Kinnard's  Kingdom,'  to  say  which  is  no  slight  praise.  We 
know  of  no  American  author  who  excels  Miss  Douglas  in  her  partic- 
ular line,  —  stories  of  every-day  American  home-life.  We  are  glad  to 
learn  that  the  sale  of  her  books  is  steadily  on  the  increase.  This  fact 
shows  that  she  is  appreciated,  and  speaks  well  for  the  taste  of  our 
Story-reading  public.  —  Christian  Leader. 


"  The  charm  of  the  story  is  the  perfectly  natural  and  homelike  air 
which  pervades  it.  The  young  ladies  are  not  stilted  and  shown  off  in 
their  '  company  manners,'  but  are  just  jolly  home-girls,  such  as  we  like 
to  find,  and  can  find  any  day.  There  is  real  satisfaction  in  reading  this 
book,  from  the  fact  that  we  can  so  readily  '  take  it  home '  to  our- 
selves. —  Portland  Argus. 

"  Amanda  Douglas  is  one  of  the  favorite  authors  among  American 
novel-readers.  She  writes  in  a  free,  fresh,  and  natural  way,  and  her 
characters  are  never  overdrawn."  —  Manchester  Mirror. 


SOLD   BY   ALL   BOOKSELLERS  AND   NEWS-DEALERS. 

LEE    &    SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS, 


Two  Glorious  Books  of  Adventure. 

THERE   SHE   BLOWS; 

OR,  THE  LOG  OF  THE  ARETHUSA. 

By  Capt.  W.  H.  MACY  of  Nantucket.     i6mo.     Cloth. 
Illustrated.     $1.50. 


"  This  contains  a  series  of  illustrated  sketches  of  actual  life  on  the 
ocean,  made  up  of  real  incidents,  and  introducing  for  the  most  part 
real'  characters.  The  author  of  the  book  is  an  old  sea-captain  of  Nan- 
tucket,  who  tells  his  numerous  stories,  usually  called  '  yarns,'  in  lively 
and  expressive  language,  somewhat  as  an  intelligent  old  sailor  talks. 
His  tales  of  adventures  on  his  whaling  voyages,  his  experiences  with 
whales  and  South  Sea  Island  savages,  and  numerous  other  things,  are 
well  told.  There  is  nothing  tedious  about  it.  Like  most  sea-captains 
of  his  character,  he  knows  how  to  spin  an  agreeable  '  yarn,'  and  to  give 
and  take  a  joke."  —  N.  O.  Picayune. 

" '  There  She  Blows,'  is  a  rattling,  lively,  rollicking  tale  of  the  '  deep 
blue  sea,'  and  the  wonderful  adventures  that  befall  those  who  skim  the 
breezy  waves,  and  look  upon  strange  lands  and  stranger  people.  The 
anecdotes  of  whalemen,  and  the  startling  scenes  and  incidents  con- 
nected with  the  whale-fishery,  are  told  in  a  manner  to  please  the  young- 
sters, whilst  they  impart  useful  information."  —  Ch,  Index,  Atlanta,  Ga. 

"  The  book  is  a  narrative  of  thrilling  adventures  and  hair-breadth 
escapes,  and  gives  one  a  very  full  description  and  knowledge  of  the 
capture  of  whales,  and,  in  fact,  the  whole  process  in  the  production  of 
whale-oil,  from  the  first  sight  of  the  whale  until  the  oil  is  stowed  away 
in  the  ship.  The  volume  also  sketches  the  life  and  experiences  aboard 
the  ship,  and  is  exciting  enough  to  satisfy  the  veriest  boy."  —  Contribu- 
tor, Boston. 

ADRIFT  IN  THE  ICE-FIELDS. 

By  CapL  C.  W.  HALL,  author  of  "The  Great  Bonanza." 

i2mo.     Illustrated.    $1.50. 

"The  author,  Capt.  Charles  W.  Hall,  has  done  his  work  well.  The 
narrative  chronicles  the  adventures  of  a  party  during  the  early  spring, 
while  shooting  sea-fowl  on  the  sea-ice  by  day,  and  the  stories  by  which 
they  whiled  away  their  long  evenings,  or  their  share  in  the  social  life 
of  their  neighbors.  Later  it  describes  the  breaking-up  of  the  ice,  by 
which  the  hunters  were  forced  into  involuntary  wandering,  and  recounts 
their  perilous  adventures,  the  hardships  to  which  they  were  reduced, 
their  final  rescue  by  a  sealing-steamer,  and  the  curious  life  on  board 
such  a  vessel.  Incident  to  the  work  is  an  accurate  description  of  the 
ice-fields  of  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  and  some  picturesque  studies  of 
life  among  people  of  whom  the  most  of  us  know  very  little.  It  is  very 
graphically  illustrated."  —  Demorest's  Monthly. 


LEE  &  SHEPARD'S  LIST  OF  BOOKS. 


"NONE  KXEW  THEE  BUT.  TO  LOVE  THEE." 

THAT  WIF    OF  MINE. 


literary  construction  of  this  book  is  superior  to  "  That  Husband 
of  Mine."  —  TOLEDO  COURANT. 

HAS  twenty-five  chapters  that  cannot  fail  to  interest  any  reader.  — 
BROCKPORT  REPUBLIC. 
A   PLEASANT,  charming  story  of  a  happy  home.  —  HOME  JOURNAL. 

*nP*HIS  is  a  better  story  than  that  which  concerns  "  That  Husband  of 
Mine."  —  LOWELL  Vox  POPULI. 

WRITTEN    in    the   same   charming,   original   style.  —  EVENING 
STANDARD. 

IS  by  far  the  most  meritorious  of  the   two  books.  —  SCHENECTADY 
UNION. 

T7ILLED  with  ludicrous  scenes  and  incidents,  and  thoroughly  enter- 
taining. —  NEW  BEDFORD  MERCURY. 

EVERY   thought  and  expression  sweet  and  wholesome  in  tone.— 


O 


RECORD  OF  THE  TIMES. 
NE  of  the  liveliest  stories  of  the  day.  —  NASHUA  TELEGRAPH. 


FAR   better   deserving   popularity  than    its    predecessor.  —  BOSTON 
JOURNAL. 

MANY  truthful  and  charming  pictures  of  feminine  human  nature.  — 
MILWAUKEE  NEWS. 

TNFINITELY  better  than  any  of  the  works  of  the   same   class.— 
JL    NEWPORT  NEWS. 

NUMEROUS    interesting  and  well-sustained  characters.  —  ALBANY 
EVENING  POST. 

EASY  and  graceful.     If  you  want  fun,  'tis  here  you  have  it.  —  BOSTON 
TIMES. 

EIGHTY-THIRD    THOUSAND    READY. 

Paper,  50c.    Cloth,  $1 .          :.  •>• 

Sold  by  all  Booksellers  and  Newsdealers. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD     -    -    Publishers, 

B  O  S  T  O  1ST. 


LEE  &  SHEPARD'S  LIST  OF  BOOKS. 


"JUST  AS  CUNNING  AS  SHE  CAN  BE," 

Says  a  mother  of  the  little  heroine  of  the  new  book, 

Child  Marion  Abroad. 


•w.  IM:.  IF. 


An  accomplished  young  lady  has  given  her  impressions  of  Europe  in  the 
fascinating  volume, 

AN  AMERICAN  GIRL  ABROAD. 


The  witty  and  sharp-sighted  matron,  her  views  in  the  equally  popular 

BEATEN  PATHS. 


The  man  of  letters,  in  the  twin  standard  books  of  travel, 

OVER  THE  OCEAN, 

AND 

ABROAD  AGAIN. 


And  now  little  Miss  America,  bright,  vivacious,  and  talkative  as  "  Little 
Prudy,"  "  Dotty  Dimple,"  or  "  Flyaway,"  crosses  the  ocean,  roams  about 
London,  interviews  the  ex-Empress  Euge'nie,  visits  General  Garibaldi,  con- 
verses with  the  Pope,  skims  on  parlor  skates  about  palaces,  views  the  old 
world  with  childish  wonder,  and  is  petted  as  an  American  princess.  It  is 
a  charming  child's  book  that  children  of  an  older  growth  will  chuckle  over. 

Handsomely  illustrated  and  richly  bound.     Price,  $1.25. 


LEE  &  SHEPARD    -    -    Publishers, 

BO  S  T  OUST. 


LEE  &  SHEPARD'S  LIST  OF  BOOKS. 


A  NEW  BOOK  FOR  YOUNG  GIRLS. 


QUINNEBASET  GIRLS. 

• 

"  A  new  story  of  Girlhood."     i2mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.    $1.50. 

UNIFORM   WITH   THE 

DOCTOR'S  DAUGHTER. 

Illustrated.    $1.50. 

"  The  '  Doctor's  Daughter,'  "  says  the  BOSTON  TRANSCRIPT,  "  is  a 
country  story,  bright  as  a  sunbeam,  natural  as  life  itself,  unpretending  as 
real  goodness,  and  salutary  as  the  primal  effect  of  pure  spring  water." 


OUR    HELEN. 

Illustrated.    #1.75.  % 

"  A  story  as  delightful  and  captivating  to  adult  readers  as  the  '  Little 
Prudy  '  and  '  Dotty  Dimple '  books  are  fascinating  to  the  children." — 
DOVER  INQUIRER. 


ASBURY   TWINS. 

Illustrated.    $1.75. 
1 A  charming  story,  as  Sophie  May's  stories  always  are."  — TROY  PRESS. 


ALL     BY    THE     SAME     AUTHOR. 

Sold  by  all  Booksellers  and  Newsdealers. 

LEE  &  SHEPARD    -    -    Publishers, 

B  O  S  T  O  3ST. 


POPULAR  NEW  BOOKS. 

OUR   SPARKLING   SERIES. 

Comprising  books  of  acknowledged  merit,  as  their  enormous  sales  testify. 

Published  uniformly.     Paper,  50  cents.    Cloth,  $1.00  per  volume. 
THAT  HUSBAND  OF  MINE. 

The  great  success,  which  in  two  months  reached  a  sale  of  125,000  Copies, 

and  is  still  in  active  demand. 
THAT  WIFE  OF  MINE. 

A  companion  volume  to  "  That  Husband,"  by  the  same  author,  just  pub- 
lished, is  equal  jy  attractive  ;  requiring  50,000  Co  pies  to  fill  orders  received 
before  its  publication. 
THEY  ALL  DO  IT. 

The  Danbury  News  Man's  new  book,  and  decidedly  his  best.     "  Ripe  in 
humorous  wisdom  and  profitable  fun."    40.000  Copies  sold  in  three 
weeks,  proves  THEY  ALL  LIKE  IT. 
SOMETHING  BETTER 

Is  the  title  of  the  next  volume,  and  a  story  of  deep  interest,  though  in  a  dif- 
ferent vein  from  the  preceding  stories  of  the  series.     It  will  be  sure  to 
please ;    all  the  volumes  of  "  1  he  Sparkling  Series "  being  selected  with 
that  purpose. 
NOBODY'S    HUSBAND. 

Follows ;   and  will,  we  are  sure,  prove  himself  an  agreeable  companion.     This 
book  has  been  advertised  under  the  title  of  "Another  Man's  Wife,"  but 
the  author  has  changed  the  title,  in  order  to  have  it  correspond  better  with 
the  idea  of  the  story. 
A    PAPER   CITY. 

By  D.  R.  LOCKE  (Rev.  Petroleum  V.  Nasby).  Is  one  of  the  best  efforts  of 
this  renowned  humorist,  satirist,  and  character  delineator.  (In  press.) 

OUR    LUCKY    SERIES. 

Comprising  bright  and  sparkling  stories  for  Young  People,  by  the  best 
authors,  is  dasigned  to  give  the  younger  members  of  the  family  what 
"  Our  Sparkling  Series  "  gives  the  older  ones,  —  THE  BEST  AT  THE 
LOWEST  PRICE.     Paper,  50  cents  ;  Cloth,  Illust,  $1.00  per  volume. 
JUST  HIS  LUCK. 

The  initial  volume  is  by  a  famous  writer  for  the  young,  whose  name  is  with- 
held for  "  Luck."     It  is  a  capital  story,  full  of  adventure,  and  with  an 
excellent  moral. 
BOUND    IN    HONOR 

Is  by  that  popular  writer,  J.  T.  Trowbridge,  and  he  has  written  nothing  bet- 
ter.    It  is  full  of  life  and  humor,  and  excellent  teachings. 
HIS    OWN    MASTER 

Is  also  by  J.  T.  Trowbridge.    The  publishers  have  secured  these  two  enter- 
taining stories  for  "  Our  Lucky  Series,"  and  consider  themselves  "  lucky" 
in  being  able  to  present  the  very  best  of  this  author's  writings. 
THE    SILVER-SEEKERS  ;  or,  Hal  and  Ned  in  Sonora. 

By  SAMUEL  WOODWORTH  COZZENS.  The  author  of  "  The  Young  Trail- 
Hunters,"  and  "  Among  the  Quicksands,"  has  the  reputation  of  being  a 
capital  story-teller  ;  and  his  long  life  among  the  red  men  of  the  West,  and 
his  adventures  in  hunting  and  trapping,  give  him  an  inexhaustible  fund 
from  which  to  draw  tales  of  thrilling  adventure  and  wonderful  daring. 
This  story  is  his  best. 

B3P"  A II  the  books  in  this  series  will  be  by  the  best  authors,  of  interest  to  both 
fid  and  young,  and,  though  never  "preachy"  designed  to  inculcate  both  good 
morals  andjnanners.  .Liberal  discount  to  the  trade  for  quantities. 

LEE  &>  SHEPARD,  PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON. 


